


Company

by R00bs_Teacup



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Asexuality, Christmas, Chronic Pain, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-18
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-08-23 03:04:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8311522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R00bs_Teacup/pseuds/R00bs_Teacup
Summary: All Merlin's friends come for Christmas, and Arthur meets them for the first time. He takes rather a shine to Gwaine. There's a giant puppy dog. Everyone is mostly happy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: chronic pain

Arthur can hear Merlin banging on the door, and he curses himself for bolting the door. He yells, when he’s in the hallway, and the banging finally stops. He glares at the wall, as if the strength of his glare can reach through the layers of stone and melt Merlin into the pathway. He has to adjust his crutches for the two steps down into the kitchen and it takes him so long and he’s pretty sure he’s going to make THE worst first impression. He reaches up for the bolt, wincing as his hip aches, and then steps back so Merlin can push the door open.  

 

“Lucy was shoving and getting out, and the hunt was going past,” Arthur explains.  

 

Lucy, of course, hears her name and comes bounding through. Arthur gets knocked into Merlin. Yeah. Not the best first impression.  

 

“Bloody hell, Luce!” Merlin says, laughing, steadying Arthur with one hand and rubbing Lucy’s ears with the other.  

 

“Wow. That is a big dog,” Comes a calm, beautiful voice from behind Merlin.  

 

It’s soft and warm and Arthur’s sure this must be Lancelot. He peers over Merlin’s shoulder and recognises the man from his Facebook photos.  

 

“Mastiff,” Arthur says, stepping away from Merlin and bundling man and dog into the kitchen so he can hold out his hand to Lancelot, “I’m Arthur, that’s Lucy. Not ‘Luce’, whatever misguided ideas Merlin has been feeding you.” 

 

“Lance,” the man says, smiling, taking Arthur’s hand in both of his.  

 

Arthur smiles back, then disengages himself to look around for the other guest Merlin was supposed to be collecting.  

 

“Did you forget someone? Did you leave your friend Gwenevier at the station?” Arthur teases, turning to Merlin.  

 

He laughs outright when he finds Merlin pinned to the floor by the dog, being drooled on, Lucy’s bum in the air and tail wagging wildly with excitement. Arthur calls her off and she comes to heel obediently, grinning up at him, expectant.  

 

“Ugh, I think she slobbered in my _mouth_! And no, Gwen is- right there! Hey, Gwen! Did you talk to your friend?” Merlin says, getting off the floor.  

 

“Yeah, she’s fine. Sorry.” 

 

Arthur turns and greets the new arrival, also recognising her. She looks warmer in real life than in her photos and she, like Lancelot, gives him a two handed shake, smiling up at him.  

 

“She needs a walk,” Arthur says, a bit distracted, “Lucy, I mean. I meant to take her out, but.” 

 

He gestures to his crutches.  

 

“Pain?” Merlin asks, coming over to him and giving his neck a squeeze, “sorry. That sucks. No worries, we’ll take her. I need to show these guys the area, anyway. Lance won’t believe that our closest neighbours are a good ten minute walk. My pride is on the line, here. My PRIDE!” 

 

Merlin throws his arms wide, letting his jacket fall open to reveal his rainbow coloured jumped. Arthur rolls his eyes and makes his slow way over to the kettle.  

 

“Can I offer anyone tea?” he says, “and do you have bags? Merlin can go fetch them.” 

 

“Oh great, offer me out as chattel,” Merlin says, sidling up to sling an arm around Arthur’s waist.  

 

“Isn’t that a prostitute of some sort?” Arthur asks.  

 

“No, you doofus, it’s a slave,” Merlin says, kissing Arthur’s neck.  

 

“What is with you and all… this?” Arthur says, pushing Merlin’s face away.  

 

“You were asleep,” Merlin complains, “I didn’t get a kiss yet, today.” 

 

Arthur kisses him briefly then turns to their guests.  

 

“Tea? Sorry that Merlin’s such a useless host.” 

 

He gets a frown for that one and feels himself going crimson. He waves a hand a bit uselessly and turns back to the kettle, trying to hide his embarrassment. He moves too abruptly and his hip sends a spike of pain down and links to the throb of his knee. He clenches his teeth, but a small noise escapes.  

 

“Bugger,” Merlin says, “sorry. They’re just not used to it. You need to go lie down, take something for the pain, let me deal with these two. I promise to be good. I’ll make them tea and take them on a walk, and we’ll be back in time for Gwaine and others to arrive and you can get up then, rested and feeling better.” 

 

Merlin talks quietly enough that it’s just for Arthur, but he’s very bossy about it. Arthur mocks him for bossing, but does as he’s told, hicking up the two steps and back down the hall to the bedroom. He has three floors of house and he’s limited to this one, with the single suite of rooms. It’s irritating and a reminder of his stupidity. He wants Lucy to come to bed with him, but she won’t, not until she’s had a walk. And even then, she’s ridiculously fond of Merlin and turns traitor sometimes, preferring to pad upstairs to Merlin’s office than to snuggle with Arthur.  

 

Arthur spreads himself across the bed, rearranging his stack of pillows until his hip stops complaining. He looks at the pile of pill boxes on the bedside table and sighs, but chooses the strongest painkiller. Merlin will be out a few hours, he has long enough to sleep the worst side-effects off. He stares at the ceiling for a bit, waiting for it to kick in, then dozes, listening to the sound of Merlin’s voice and laughter from the kitchen. It’s nice, to hear him. Arthur feels at peace and slips away feeling content.  

 

 

“Is he alright?” Gwen asks, peering at the door through which Arthur vanished.  

 

“Yeah,” Merlin says, “Lucy!” 

 

She’s trying to get out again, thumping the door.  

 

“Can she really open it?” Lance asks.  

 

“Yeah,” Merlin repeats, “we need to replace the latch, really, because she goes wandering round the village when Arthur’s off and I’m working and neither of us can walk her. She frightens people, even though she’s a complete teddy bear. Luce, c’mere!” 

 

She comes, slinking, giving him betrayed looks. She puts her head on his thigh for a cuddle, though.  

 

“Are you sure?” Gwen says, “that he’s okay, I mean. We didn’t scare him off? I didn’t mean to frown at him, I know you told us he could be a bit abrasive and you swore it was just his way and he really was teasing, and I know you warned us about the things he’d say, but it was still a shock to hear him talking about you like that. I am sorry, though.” 

 

“He’s like Lucy,” Merlin says, smiling at the dog, “isn’t he, girl? You and he are twins in nature. He’s all bark and no bite. Nah, he was just teasing. It’s just banter. He just gets the tone wrong now and then. I swear!” 

 

Gwen seems to accept it and Lance grins at him across the table, so Merlin supposes it’s okay. He’s sure that, given time, they’ll realise for themselves how lovely Arthur is. Well, maybe not. That might take longer than anyone has. Merlin sniggers at his own joke and slurps up his tea.  

 

“So, if we didn’t scare him, why’d he scarper?” Lance asks, tone carefully veiling amusement.  

 

He’s asking for Gwen’s peace of mind, and Merlin is glad that they’re still so in-synch, even if the question is invasive and a bit problematic. It’s not like he wants to spread Arthur’s business everywhere.  

 

“He’s just resting his hip a bit,” Merlin says.  

 

Or, you know, sleeping off a strong painkiller because he’s in so much pain because of the cold weather. Merlin hates when the crutches come out, and not just because it means winter’s settling in.  

 

“Um,” Gwen says.  

 

“Yes, it’s rude to ask, please don’t,” Merlin says, irritated, “it’s curiosity, and you are not- sorry. It’s just annoying.” 

 

He brushes Lucy off and gets up, taking his mug to the sink. Lucy pads after him, docile, sensing his mood.  

 

“Sorry,” Gwen says.  

 

“I get that you’re interested in my life, and that’s cool, and if the moment arises with Arthur don’t hold back, use your judgement. But don’t just be curious and nosey. I know, from experience, how hard that can be. I kind of just blurted the question out.” 

 

“I bet that went well,” Lance says, laughing at him, the bastard.  

 

“Are you done with tea?” Merlin asks.  

 

Gwen brings her mug over and gives him a hug, so he forgives her. They both give Lance looks until he puts his half-full mug in the sink, chastised, and goes to find them wellies from the car. Merlin watches them dig through their stuff, coat and scarf in place, Lucy on the lead.  

 

“How did you lug all this shite on the train?” he mutters, watching Lance pull a bag of wellies out from under the big suitcase and two bags of gifts.  

 

“Shut up,” Gwen says.  

 

Merlin takes them up the lane towards the Mellors’, cutting out the long drive and taking them across Hexeth’s fields. Lance and Gwen walk arm in arm with him, one on either side, gossiping to bring him up to date with the goings on in Cambridge. He tells them a bit about what it’s like, being able to actually write. Lucy runs.  

 

“So,” Merlin says, pointing down to the farm house, “that’s the mellors place, and they’re the closest to us, and this is the shortest way.” 

 

“Okay, I give in,” Lance says, “middle of fuck all.” 

 

Merlin laughs and whistles for Lucy, waiting for her to bound back to him and turning them away from the farm. He takes them up round the hill and over the top of the woods, ending up at their closest village.  

 

“Nearest pub,” Merlin says, pointing it out.  

 

They take the walk back easy, Merlin pointing out the tree he fell out of trying to climb when he sprained his wrist. The grass is wet and the mud is sticky, but it’s not deep. The ground is still half frozen, and by the morning it’ll all be frosted over. The crisp air, clear of the morning’s fog and frost, the dampness, the almost-bright sunshine makes the landscape green and golden, the earth coming up red and deep instead of looking like dirty puddles.  

 

Merlin takes Lance and Gwen up the hill that Arthur’s house sits at the bottom of and they stand, taking in the patchwork farmland, the purple hills in the distance, capped with snow, the edge of forest where the sun’s already descending. Merlin pointed them in the direction of the river, silently, the silver of it weaving a spell over them. From up here they can see both the village and the Mellors’, can just make out the movement of the three shaggy ponies Hexeth keeps, can see the barns and grey courtyard of the Mellors’ milking yard.  

 

“It’s beautiful,” Gwen says.  

 

“I love it,” Merlin admits, “I always saw myself as a city person, but after Cambridge, I was used to something smaller than London, and this is just… it’s amazing, when the sun’s out. And we have apple trees, raspberries, plums. In the garden! Arthur grows potatoes and things, too. We eat things from the back garden! It’s awesome.” 

 

“It’s three o’clock, Merls,” Lance says, “wasn’t Gwaine arriving-“ 

 

“Shit!” Merlin says, turning briskly.  

 

Lucy comes trotting up halfway down and Merlin can’t be bothered with the lead, so he takes Lance and Gwen the back way, over the style. They have to shove through a bush, but Merlin decides they’ve been friends long enough. He grabs the dog before she can bang the door open and reaches up for the towel to get the mud off before letting her into the kitchen and dealing with his own boots. When they mooch into the kitchen it’s to the picturesque view of Gwaine, showing Arthur his bare arse.  

 

“Gwaine!” Merlin yells, “What are you doing?” 

 

Gwaine tugs his trousers and pants up and turns, grinning widely, before bouncing over to embrace Merlin. Arthur looks a bit baffled and a bit sleepy, but not annoyed. Though, Merlin knows there’ll be complaints about him having to open the door so often, later. Merlin notices Elena at the table and struggles out of Gwaine’s hold to greet her, and then yells for Joe, her three year old who is now, inexplicably, five and big enough to yell back and thump down the hallway and fling himself into ‘Uncle Merlin’s arms.  

 

“You’re late,” Arthur murmurs into Merlin’s ear, proving Merlin’s theory about complaints right.  

 

“Got distracted, took ‘em up the hill at the back,” Merlin says, “Also, why was Gwaine showing you his bum?” 

 

“Bum!” Joe yells, pulling Merlin’s hair, rubbing his palm over Merlin’s stubble, “scratch!”  

 

“Shush,” Merlin says, putting the nuisance down.  

 

Joe leaps up the steps and runs back to whatever he was busy with before Merlin called him out.  

 

“I… am not entirely sure? He seems to think I’m a doctor and wanted to show me a pimple? Is Elena his girlfriend?” Arthur says, frowning.  

 

“No,” Merlin says, laughing, “but she’s seen his arse a lot. We all have. He’s proud of it. Why did you think Arthur was a doctor, Gwaine?” 

 

Gwaine comes over, munching on a piece of cake.  

 

“Dunno, I thought you mentioned?” Gwaine says, “are you not? Sorry, mate! Bet that was weird for you.” 

 

“It would have been a little eccentric, even if I had been medically trained,” Arthur admonishes, “but I can see why you’re proud of it.” 

 

Gwaine beams. Merlin snorts; that’s one friend won over, anyway.  

 

“What’s Joey doing?” Merlin thinks to ask, turning to Ellie.  

 

“He’s sitting in the conservatory reading his way through my ‘Asterix and Obelix’ and ‘Tintin’ collection,” Arthur says, “I’d forgotten those were out there.” 

 

“I bet he’s happy as a clam in mud. You have, like, every book ever. In both French and English. You have Lucky Lukes out there, too,” Merlin says, thinking, okay, two friends won over, three if you counted Joe.  

 

“How do you know that?” Arthur asks.  

 

“I may have done the same thing as Joe is doing now?” Merlin admits.  

 

“Oh, would anyone like tea?” Arthur asks, remembering he’s supposed to be hosting.  

 

Merlin smiles as Elena groans and says she couldn’t possibly without bursting, suggesting that Arthur has filled them with tea up to the brink. It might mean that he’s a bit forgetful from meds, or it might mean he’s nervous about this. Either way, it’s sweet. 

 

“Okay,” Arthur says, “hot chocolate for the explorers? Where’s Lucy, by the way?”  

 

“Out with Joe,” Lance says, “and I’m good, actually.” 

 

“Me too,” Gwen says.  

 

“Oh,” Arthur says.  

 

He looks a bit lost for a moment, then he smiles a bit inanely and goes to sit by the lit gass fire, eyes glazing a little bit. Merlin takes that as his cue to take over. He keeps the conversation going for a bit, then suggests they move up to the livingroom to continue in comfort, and take the cake and Joe. Gwen looks a bit confused when Arthur doesn’t join them, but she doesn’t say anything. Even when Merlin slips away, she only gives him a penetrating look.  

 

Merlin slips into their bedroom and finds Arthur on the bed with Lucy, the dog curled up against his bad side, his knee propped up. Merlin goes to sit beside him, brushing the hair off Arthur’s face, smiling when he opens drug-fogged eyes. Arthur smiles back, lopsided and tired but genuine. He reaches out and touches Merlin’s cheek and smiles wider.  

 

“You’re beautiful,” Arthur says, amazed.  

 

“Ta muchly,” Merlin says, “and you, are high.” 

 

“Mm. Do you think they noticed?”  

 

“Probs not. Busy with seeing each other again and all.” 

 

“Good.” 

 

“Have you eaten anything today?” 

 

“No, don’t think so. But I get the idea I poured rather a lot of tea into Elena and Gwaine, so I’m not sure my word can be trusted.” 

 

Not nerves, then. That’s good.  

 

“I wish I could stay and cuddle with you,” Merlin admits, “I hate it when you’re feeling poo. Makes me restless.” 

 

“I noticed,” Arthur says, indicating Merlin’s leg.  

 

Merlin realises it’s bouncing.  

 

“Don’t be a prat.” 

 

“Just being observant.” 

 

“In a prattish way.” 

 

“I like you, Merlin,” Arthur says, smiling his lopsided, high, stupid smile.  

 

“I got that much.” 

 

“Wish I could meet your mates properly.” 

 

“Tomorrow.” 

 

“I will probably still be in pain. It’s this bloody weather. I am going to have to invest in that new heating system, this is ridiculous. I might go over to Leon’s, later, see if that helps.” 

 

“I’ll drive you now, if you like. They’ll be fine for a bit, and you can take Lucy and I’ll come fetch you just before dinner.” 

 

Arthur shakes his head, but he looks tempted. He looks very tempted. Merlin decides to do it anyway and goes to tell Elena where he’s going, she being the closest to the door and, since becoming a single parent, the best and empathising with people wanting privacy.  

 

** 

 

“Where’s Merlin?” Gwaine asks, looking around.  

 

“Gone up to the Mellors’ farm,” Elena says, stroking Joe’s hair, “with Arthur. He has some business with Leon Mellor.” 

 

“What business?” Gwaine asks. 

 

“Arthur’s business,” Elena says.  

 

She ignores the rest of the questions and lets Joe talk her through the page of his book, enjoying having him close and fairly content. She’s going to have to do something for Arthur, even if keeping the books was a bit of an accident. She noticed, as well, that there was a collection of old toys in the hallways up here, accumulated probably by Arthur, seeing as Merlin is useless at thinking ahead, though not unthoughtful.  

 

“Arthur seems the organised type, doesn’t he?” Elena says, absently, mostly to Joe.  

 

Joe nods, not caring what she’s on about, too busy with Dogmatix or Snowie or Rantanplan, dogs one and all. The mastiff is going to be a big hit with Joe, too. He’s going to be perfectly at home, here.  

 

“I bet colour codes thing,” Gwaine says, laughing, “I noticed a set of different coloured stickies by the fridge. Maybe it’s pink for little nothings, green for vegetables.” 

 

“Shut up, Gwaine,” Lance says, “you could natter us to death if we let you.” 

 

Luckily, for the sake of their sanity, Merlin comes up before Gwaine can give that a shot. He grins around at them and goes to light the fire that’s already set before slumping into the sofa next to Gwen.  

 

“When did you learn to set a fire?” Gwen asks, giving him a pinch.  

 

“I didn’t, Arthur does them,” Merlin says.  

 

“He can do stairs?” Gwaine asks.  

 

Merlin scowls and Elena realises that she’s going to be playing ‘get in the middle’ this weekend. She was always the one putting her foot into it when she was younger, but Joe’s made her a little more able in that department.  

 

“I don’t think we need to go into a list of his abilities,” she says, gently, “obviously he can, if he’s set the fire. The rest isn’t our business.” 

 

“Thank you,” Merlin says.  

 

“We’re just curious,” Lance says, “sorry, though. It’s not ours to ask about.” 

 

“No, it’s not, and it’s not mine to talk about. Talk to Arthur if you want to know, see if you can pull it off without being rude and offensive, though.” 

 

Elena grins, ruffling Joey’s hair.  

 

“Gwaine knows ALL about rude and offensive, but only because he practises them as virtues,” she says.  

 

Somehow, that lightens things up again and everyone starts barraging Merlin with questions about his own life, instead of his boyfriend’s. Merlin gives her a grateful smile, which she shrugs off. He did it a hundred times for her, before.  

 

“Mummy,” Joe says, looking up at her, “are you very clever?” 

 

“Not particularly,” she says, pushing at his hair, “you need a haircut, baby.” 

 

“But you just stopped Uncle Gwaine and Uncle Merlin shouting. Isn’t that clever?” 

 

“Oh, that kind of clever. I can be, sometimes. I can be as dumb as your old Uncle Gwaine about it sometimes, though. We all have our charms, our strengths and weaknesses.” 

 

Joe nods seriously, even though he probably only understood about half. In fact, he probably just got out of all that, that he has a clever Mummy. Elena laughs.  

 

She keeps Joe in her lap and starts reading bits of speech bubbles for him when he points, tuning herself out of the general uproar that always happens when Gwaine and Merlin get together. She looks up for the pillow fight, cheering Gwen on against the boys, even letting Joe go to help her out, and she looks up again to watch Merlin try to beat Gwaine at arm wrestling. When Merlin goes to get dinner on and Lance goes after him to help, she sends Joe down, too, trusting the boys to keep her son entertained and happy, and goes to sit with Gwen.  

 

“Ah, Ellie, that lot are bonkers,” Gwen says, head back on the sofa, grinning like a lunatic.  

 

“Hey,” Gwaine protests.  

 

“Either take a nap or bugger off,” Elena says, “we’re busy. I need to ask Gwen’s advice about tampons.” 

 

Gwaine shrugs and stretches himself out in front of the fire, clearly not worried in the least by their discussing the pros and cons of a menstrual cup.  

 

“I always use one for the first few days, because I just bleed like crazy. It’s ridiculous,” Gwen says, “but I generally use tampons after that, they’re so much easier and less messy.” 

 

“Maybe,” Elena admits, though she’s still all for giving the cup thing a try, “So, what do you think about Merlin’s new beau?” 

 

Gwaine rolls up onto his knees and watches Gwen with interest, quiet for once, waiting for an opinion. Gwen thinks, face crinkling up, rather adorably. Elena reaches out to press the little wrinkles and makes Gwen laugh and bat at her hands.  

 

“Sorry,” Elena says, “go on with your deep thinking.” 

 

“42,” Gwen says, without hesitating. 

 

“That’s deep _thought_ , and a change of subject,” Gwaine says, patience petering out.  

 

“I think we’re probably not getting the best of him, that’s the impression I have so far,” Gwen says, glaring at Gwaine, “I think that Merlin likes him very much and, by the looks of things, Arthur likes Merlin very much, too.” 

 

Elena nods. She doesn’t add her own thought, that she’d had earlier, that Arthur could probably be a bit of a bastard. And that Merlin was probably perfectly capable of dealing with that from him. She nods again and claps her hands.  

 

“Merlin seems happy here, anyway,” Elena says, heaving herself out of the squishy sofa, “Jesus, I’m getting so fat!” 

 

“You’re boobs are definitely getting cuddly,” Gwaine says, bouncing to his feet and giving her a squeeze. 

 

Elena only pretends to bite his ear off, because he only pretends to squeeze her arse.  

 

“You two are…” Gwen says, then trails off with a laugh, “it’s been a while, huh?” 

 

“It wouldn’t be so long if you two academic twats ever peaked your heads above your books and students and came to the metrop,” Gwaine grumbles, diconecting himself from Elena and attaching himself to Gwen’s side, instead.  

 

They meander out, bickering peaceably, probably heading for the kitchen. Elena hesitates, considering following them. She pulls her jumper on and goes down, but then turns through the livingroom and goes out the French windows, instead. There’s a boardwalk out there, a couple of chairs and a dilapidated table hulking shadows in the dark. The garden immediately in front of her slops down to the hedge and she can see out, across the fields, to the high hills.  

 

“The black mountains,” Merlin says, making Elena stifle a squeal of surprise and nearly topple into the grass.  

 

“Merlin! You startled me! When did you get so sneaky?” 

 

“I have no idea,” Merlin says, grinning at her, then turning away and whistling into the house.  

 

Lucy comes bounding out, followed by Joe. Elena catches her son to make sure he has shoes and a jacket on before letting him race after the dog, making wild noises.  

 

“He’s happy here,” She says, “thank you, Merlin. For inviting us. It’s nice to escape the yummy mummy crowd for a bit, and be able to bring him along.” 

 

“That’s unusual?” 

 

“Gwaine’s fond of him, so we meet for coffee sometimes, but you know Gwaine. Work mates tend to want to do things without having to consider a child, and… it’s hard to make friends when you’re older, isn’t it?” 

 

Merlin tugs her into a rough hug, breathing hard into her hair for a minute. She thinks he might be a bit teary.  

 

“Sorry,” he says, swallowing loudly, “just, gets a bit lonely out here, sometimes. It’s great for writing and I do have people who are becoming friends, and Arthur and me do do things, it’s just.” 

 

“Yeah, it’s not the same as Cambridge, or when we were all in London, is it? How’s Hunith? I bet she loves it out here.” 

 

“She does, yeah. She came up in the summer and stayed two weeks, and she and Arthur spent the time in the garden, doing green fingered things and ‘bonding’. Okay, Lucy has peed so it’s time to… come on, Luce!” 

 

Merlin herds the dog inside and Joe comes up, breathless and high pitched. Elena catches him again and hoists him into her arms so she can tug off his muddy wellies, and then holds onto him until he calms a little.  

 

“You grow so quickly,” she says, feeling his soft hair against her cheek, “you’re getting bigger again.” 

 

“Yup,” Joe says, self-satisfied, as if it’s through sheer effort, “now I can go play?” 

 

“Pyjamas, then play. Go find your uncle Gwaine and get him to fetch the bags from the car.” 

 

Joe whines, but he’s torn between complaining about the impending bed time and excitement about playing with the dog, and excitement about being allowed to boss Gwaine around. In the end he goes with just one stomp.  

 

“He’s articulate,” Merlin says, sounding shell shocked, then shakes himself, “I’ve gotta go get Arthur, then it’ll be dinner. Could you do me a favour?” 

 

“Depends.” 

 

“It’s just setting the table. I showed Gwaine where the stuff is, but, you know. Gwaine.” 

 

“Chaos.” 

 

Merlin laughs and Elena adds jazz hands for effect, then they head back indoors and through to the kitchen.  

 

 

Leon leaves Arthur lying on the massage table for half an hour after he’s done, covered with a warm blanket, the Lord of the Ring’s audiobook Arthur favours playing quietly. Arthur fades in and out, limp and still a little high, pain coming and going but mostly going. Eventually he manages to stir himself and sit up, dragging his trousers and shirt (waiting for him within reach) back on. He lurches around looking for his crutches, then finds them right by the table, where he would have been able to reach them. He heads out of the little relaxation room and through Leon’s waiting room to his office.  

 

“Hey,” Leon says, looking up over his glasses, “better?” 

 

“Yeah. Like a noodle,” Arthur says, heading for the arm chair.  

 

“Wait, wait. I’m finishing up, and Lilly’s home. She’s cooking.” 

 

Arthur nods and heads for the kitchen instead. Leon is a lousy cook, but his sister is pretty much spectacular. Arthur waits in the hall until he sees his chance, then nips into the kitchen as quick as he can and steals a cookie off the Aga.  

 

“Arthur Pendragon you little rascal!”  

 

Arthur turns, stuffing the last of the cookie in his mouth, and gives his best charming smile.  

 

“Sorry, ‘Lis’beth,” he tries.  

 

“Menace! Those are for other people,” Elizabeth Mellor says, but she’s laughing at him, “you are covered in crumbs. Go, sit, I will make you coffee.” 

 

“Mm.” 

 

Arthur hobbles over to her and manouvers around her to the table. He blinks slowly, drugs slowing things briefly, and when he looks up he has not only a mug of hot coffee, black the way he likes it, but also a big cookie. Leon is sat next to him, legs stretched out, looking far too amused.  

 

“Shut up,” Arthur says, breaking off some cookie and dipping it in his coffee, “you broke me. Turned me to sludge.” 

 

“Good,” Leon says, “I have not lost my touch, then. Lil, did Gilly come back from the sheep thing yet?” 

 

“No. And it’s not my job to keep track of your employees. If you persist in trying to be a masseur and a farmer, I can only wash my hands of you.” 

 

Leon shrugs amiably and steals a bit of Arthur’s cookie.  

 

“That’s mine,” Arthur says, pulling it closer.  

 

He still hasn’t managed to drink more than a few sips of coffee and hasn’t managed to get anywhere with the cookie, half an hour later, when Merlin slips into the kitchen. He’s got Leon’s cat on his lap and is half asleep, sliding slowly out of the chair, Elizabeth and Leon bickering about Gilly and sheep.  

 

“You look like jelly,” Merlin says, divesting him of both cat and cookie, “come on, Lance and people cooked. Pasta sauce, I think, they’re all quite useless in the kitchen.” 

 

“Okay,” Arthur says, agreeably, feeling mellow.  

 

He tries to stand but ends up giggling instead.  

 

“You really need to eat,” Merlin says, gulping down Arthur’s coffee and then pulling him up to stand, “you’re like a noodle.” 

 

“That’s what I said,” Arthur says.  

 

He tries to say it again a few times, and then he’s in the car and Merlin’s trying to get him back out of the car and he gets a bit confused, but he walks where Merlin tells him to and they manage to get into his own kitchen, though he has little idea how, and Lucy’s there and there are lots of people. Arthur looks blearily around and catches their attention, everyone looking back at him.  

 

“Tada!” he says, spreading his arms.  

 

Merlin snorts and gets him out of his coat and into a chair.  

 

“Is he drunk?” someone asks.  

 

“No,” Merlin snaps.  

 

Oops. Arthur pulls himself together a bit, and finds himself by the gas fire, a small child looking up at him, and Lucy’s head on his knee, drooling.  

 

“Hello, girl,” Arthur says, to the dog, and to the boy, “hi.” 

 

“I’m Joseph,” the child says.  

 

“Oh. I’m Arthur.” 

 

“It’s dinner time. I had to put my pyjamas on, and so did uncle Gwaine, and so did uncle Lance, and so did auntie Gwen, but Mummy didn’t because she’s a Mum, and you and uncle Merlin didn’t because you weren’t here. Are you a Mummy? Merlin’s gone to put his pyjamas on.” 

 

Arthur frowns, then looks at Lucy, then looks around for Merlin, hoping for instruction. Lucy’s no use and Merlin’s not present. Gwaine grins and waves. And sure enough, he’s wearing a very striking set of turquoise, silk pyjamas.  

 

“Those are hideous,” he hears himself say.  

 

“Yes, aren’t they wonderful?” Gwaine says.  

 

Then Arthur loses time again and next thing he knows he’s sat at the table next to Merlin, making polite conversation over a big bowl of pasta and sauce, loaded with cheese.  

 

“Did you have a nice evening?” Arthur asks, aiming the question generally, tuning back in to what’s going on.  

 

“Yes, thanks for lending us the house-space,” Gwen says, smiling.  

 

She has a nice smile. Gwen blushes, and Arthur realises he must have muttered that out loud.  

 

“Eat your pasta,” Merlin says, nudging him gently.  

 

There’s some chaos, once the food’s been eaten and people have moved on to wine and there’s lots of laughter, because Elena is taking Joe to bed.  

 

“I don’t want to go!” Joe yells, squirming away from grasping hands and sliding bonelessly onto the floor, “I’m sleeping with Lucy!” 

 

“Lucy sleeps with us,” Arthur says, trying to sound apologetic about that but not really managing because Lucy is _his_ dog, and Joseph is noisy.  

 

“Shush, Arthur,” Merlin says, on the edge of laughter.  

 

“I think I might head to bed, even if he doesn’t,” Arthur says, yawning, “tuck me in?” 

 

Merlin shakes his head, but he gets to his feet and his hand is gentle and steady under Arthur’s elbow when he lurches into the edge of the table.  

 

“See? Even the grown ups are going to bed,” Elena says, “so head on up and do your teeth, and uncle Lance will come read The Giant Jam Sandwich to you. You brought is especially so he could do all the sound effects, remember? And then, I will come tuck you in and give you a kiss goodnight, and you’ll sleep and have lovely dreams. And when you wake up, uncle Percy and uncle Elyan will be here.” 

 

Elena scoops up her son as she talks and carries him away from the excitement, voice trailing off down the hall. Arthur finally gets his crutches in order and staggers after them, Merlin still steady at his side. He all but falls into bed, and then, to his embarrassment, finds tears sliding down his face.  

 

“Tired?” Merlin asks, working easily to get the covers out and over him, arranging his cushions and leg, fingers gentle on his hip, popping out a pill and handing that and a bottle of water to Arthur, “take this.” 

 

“I like your friends.” 

 

“Yeah? Good. Percy and Elyan are arriving later, I’ll wait up for them and play host in the morning. You alright? It’s not too much?” 

 

“I didn’t sleep well last night,” Arthur admits, “my hip hurt.” 

 

“Wake me, if that happens tonight, okay? I want you to be rested for some of this, yeah?” 

 

“Kay.” 

 

The tears are mostly gone, and Merlin wipes the last of them away. The first it had happened had been awful for both of them, but they’ve got a routine for most things by now. Arthur doesn’t like it, but he can live with it if Merlin can. He catches Merlin’s hand and tugs until Merlin’s lying with him.  

 

“Mm. I love you,” Arthur says, wrapping his arms around Merlin’s head to make him laugh.  

 

“Get off me! Oh, you stink! Sweaty betty! Pax, pax!” 

 

Merlin wriggles free and, flush-faced, grins at Arthur. Arthur kisses him. Kisses him again.  

 

“This okay?” he asks, breathless.  

 

“Yeah,” Merlin says, “I like it.” 

 

Arthur nods and kisses Merlin harder. Kissing is one of the boundary things for them, one of the sensual/sexual things that they have different feelings about. Arthur enjoys it, likes the feeling, but it doesn’t do much for Merlin. Merlin prefers cuddling. Arthur can do that.  

 

“I can cuddle the shit out of you,” Arthur says, pleased, and goes about doing just that.  

 

“Bloody octopus,” Merlin says, buried somewhere around Arthur’s chest and armpit area, but he doesn’t try to escape.  

 

“Don’t you love me too? You didn’t say it,” Arthur demands.  

 

“No.” 

 

“Merlin.” 

 

“Nope.” 

 

“ _Mer_ lin!” 

 

Arthur gets his fingers into Merlin’s ticklish sides. 

 

“Fine! You prat! I love you!” 

 

Arthur grins and lets Merlin escape, so they’re lying face to face again. Arthur reaches out to trace the line of Merlin’s nose, then frowns and pokes at his cheek, thinking of sudden and worrisome things.  

 

“Merlin?” 

 

“Stop poking.” 

 

“Merlin?” 

 

“Poking, stop!” 

 

“Merlin!” 

 

“What?” 

 

“Do your friends know you’re asexual?”  

 

Arthur pokes Merlin’s cheek hardest at the end of the question, but then Merlin catches his hand and tries to bite the poking finger off, so he stops. 

 

“Yeah, they know,” Merlin says, “why?” 

 

“Do they know I am?” 

 

“Dunno. Again, why?” 

 

“Just, maybe they don’t like me much. Being mean to you, being grumpy, getting high, making you have sex.” 

 

“You don’t make me have sex, you weirdo.” 

 

“But, they don’t _know_ that, do they?” 

 

“Are you actually being paranoid about that? Really? I can tell them, if you like, if it’d make you stop freaking out.” 

 

Merlin licks Arthur’s face, and all the worrisome things stop worrying him. Arthur’s buzzing with having Merlin close, a bit high on his meds, and he’s starting to droop with the nightime ones. He’s pretty close to just conking out. 

 

“You staying?” he asks, knitting his fingers into Merlin’s shirt so Merlin has no choice but to say the right answer.  

 

“Yes, my lord,” Merlin says.  

 

Arthur puts a proprietary hand on Merlin’s bum and then presses his face to Merlin’s collar bone and then goes to sleep.  

 

 

“You know, for someone as ace as I am, Arthur has a peculiar predilication for my arse,” Merlin says, strolling back into the kitchen. 

 

Only Gwen’s there, and she knows him too well to be shocked, which is disappointing. She just looks up from her book and hums.  

 

“Where is everyone?” Merlin says, slouching into a chair at the table next to her. 

 

“Ellie and Lance are with Joey, and Gwaine went out for a smoke and to talk to Percy.  Apparently he and Yan got lost on the M5 trying to get around Birmigham." 

 

"They came that way? Why on earth? There are perfectly good A roads that go no where near hell city." 

 

Merlin sits at the table, then gets up to do some clearing and get the dishes out of the way. Gwen joins him at the sink, bumping him until he gives up washing duties and starts drying and putting away, Gwen getting everything clean in half the time it'd take Merlin. They work in companionable silence for a while, Gwen humming to herself and then singing under her breath. Merlin recognises something folksy and soft. 

 

"Show me the way to go home," he sings, loudly and out of tune, over her, "I'm tired and I want to go to bed." 

 

She joins in and they're dancing at the sink, laughing, when Gwaine comes in. Gwaine's face lights up and he bounces over to join them, dancing wildly behind them, singing along. Merlin turns and tames Gwaine's hips a little, and Gwaine grabs Gwen round the waist to coral her into it, and switches them to American Pie, another old favourite.  

 

They're breathless and laughing, jumping around and knocking into the side boards, when Lance comes in. He just rolls his eyes and goes to sit at the table, pouring himself another glass of wine. Merlin joins him, extracting himself from the dance mob, but Gwaine and Gwen carry on, scrolling through 80s pop and resurrecting awful routines.  

 

"That's the woman you're going to marry," Merlin points out, commandeering Lance's wine.  

 

"We won't, we don't really believe in marriage. Gwen's uncomfortable with the religious aspect, and I don't see the point. We're already committed to one another, and we're civil partners, so we have the legal thing sorted." 

 

"You had a civil partnership thing and didn't invite me?" 

 

"It was a legal, paperwork thing for us, not a celebration and commitment thing. You came to our anniversary, with the promises and that." 

 

Merlin pours Lance another glass of wine, topping up the one he has. He feels a slight pang at how much he's missed of Lance's life, just by being so far away.  

 

"What else has been going on since I last saw you?" Merlin asks.  

 

"Not much. We came to the conclusion that we don't want children, and I'm going to get a vasectomy." 

 

"That's.... a commitment." 

 

"Gwen's Dad's worried. He thinks we might change our minds." 

 

Merlin nods. His automatic reaction is the same as Tom's. What if they do change their minds? But he doesn't say it out loud. He's heard it enough about his own life choices and knows how disrespectful it feels, having it said.  

 

"I guess you guys don't need marriage at all, really." 

 

"Our marriage is in the way we're building our lives together: building our own house with both our savings, investing in our local community, the decision to have no children. We're going to open our house up for emergency foster placements, once we've finally completed the extension next year, and we're going to put more effort into our garden, try and be as self-sustainable as possible." 

 

"You sound happy," Merlin says, smiling, and Lance's smile in return lights up his eyes.  

 

"I am. The house runs exclusively on the solar and wind power we generate, now. The garden's growing, even if we haven't, in the past, put enough thought into what exactly is growing there. We like our neighbours, we like our jobs. Gwen's very happy." 

 

"And here I was boasting about the plums and raspberries." 

 

Lance laughs, patting Merlin's shoulder as if in commiseration. They're interrupted by Gwen joining them with a tea pot and mugs, and Elena coming down the steps. She looks different than the last time Merlin saw her. She's a bit plumper, a bit more graceful (she trips as he thinks this, laughing and toppling into the chair next to Lance), her hair's a bit wilder.  

 

"Are you happy?" Merlin asks her, "I just got the low down on how disgustingly blissful these two are." 

 

"I'm doing okay," Elena says, helping herself to tea, "Joe's at school in September, so I'll be able to work more regularly, and I've been looking at part time courses, thinking about the possibility of doing the masters Joe derailed with his arrival." 

 

The gentle strains of James Taylor singing 'Sweet Baby James' start up, and Merlin glances over to where Gwaine's found the sound system and plugged his phone in. Merlin waves him over and pours him out a glass of wine. 

 

"Don't worry," Gwaine says, sitting by Gwen, "this is the only James song on here. I know you hate him." 

 

"I don't _hate_ him," Gwen says, "I just... don't _not_ hate him." 

 

"Would you do the masters with the Open University?" Lance asks Elena. 

 

"Not sure, I'm looking at other options, too. Middlesex offers one in Minorities and Rights, and you can do it part time. The campus is close to us, and the school's pretty good. The course sounds amazing, too," Elena says, hands waving in enthusiasm. 

 

"It'd probably end up cheaper," Merlin says, half grousing, "Open U gets really expensive, with their modules adding up and having to complete certain units and everything just gets confusing." 

 

"You didn't do Open U," Gwaine points out, "how would you know?" 

 

"I've heard things," Merlin says, darkly, "Also, Will did it, and complained a lot. Will's good at complaining. I had to sort his funding and stuff, in the end." 

 

"He's right," Ellie says, pulling a face, "I think it can get expensive. I would probably do better with something more local and face to face, I think." 

 

"I've been to Middlesex," Gwen says, "Elyan did his bachelors there." 

 

"They've changed," Elena says, "they did loads to the campus. It's all shiny and awesome." 

 

"Wait, wait," Gwaine says, "If you do that, I'll be the only one of you twats left with no post grad. That's not fair." 

 

"Arthur never did any," Merlin says, "you could always join Ellia, though, and do something worthwhile." 

 

"I'll have you know that attempting to set the record for bar tending in the most countries around the world IS a worthwhile thing to do," Gwaine says.  

 

The conversation veers off, then, and Merlin sits back, thinking about Elena's masters. He's been thinking himself, about doing more studying. His writing's going okay and he's got a few things published, but his critical work seems to be making him more money than his creative. It might be useful to have a masters in that, as well as creative writing. Or even a PhD. Merlin drifts out of the conversation, dreaming about getting honours in his PhD, graduating, again, wearing another gown and throwing another hat in the air, Arthur there, this time, to grin proudly at him. They'd eat strawberries. 

 

Merlin jumps nearly out of his skin when someone bangs on the door, and lets out an undignified little yelp that has Lance in hysterics. Merlin topples himself out of his chair, heart beating wildly, and stumbles across the kitchen. Lucy comes padding out of the bedroom and joins him at the door, not barking because she knows better than to bark when her master's sleeping, but still there and on guard, ready to smother whoever is invading her house with licking kisses and doggy hugs and too much love and excitement. Merlin gets in front of her and keeps her behind his legs, opening the door.  

 

"Merlin!" 

 

Elyan jumps into Merlin's arms, and then Percy hugs them both, and then Lucy gets tangled in Merlin's legs, and then Lucy gets even more excited and lets out a smothered half bark of enthusiasm and tries to jump up, and then the whole lot of them go crashing to the floor. They take the post, the pan, the random fork and knife, the metal bowl and the rest of the clutter off the sideboard with them and there's much, much laughter at their expense.  

 

******************************************* 

 

Elena wakes in a big, soft bed, with a big, soft duvet, and the knowledge that she has nowhere to be and Joe is fine and dandy without her. She stretches, then stretches more, wriggling in the cool, clean sheets, making little pleased noises. She flops around for her phone and checks the time, smiling when she discovers that it's nearly nine o'clock. She hasn't slept this well in a while. She lies, comfortable, content, until the sound of voices filters into her consciousness.  

 

She lies still for a bit longer, but she's awake now, curious and hungry and ready to get moving. She finds her slippers and leaves the room, closing the door quietly behind her, making sure to be careful on the stairs so she doesn't trip and make too much noise. She giggles, thinking of Elyan and Percy's arrival of chaos last night. God, they must be so hung over this morning. She finds Joey in the kitchen, with Arthur and Lucy, stirring a bowl of something.  

 

"Good morning," she says, feeling a bit awkward that it's Arthur and not someone she knows. 

 

She'd expected Gwen or Merlin, both morning people, or maybe Lance, who sometimes gets up for a run or some other form of torture. She shuffles, crossing her arms over herself, very aware of her lack of bra.  

 

"Mummy," Joe says, "I'm making some French breads. I'm teaching Arthur how uncle Gwaine does it, so it tastes yummy. Can you believe it? he didn't know about French breads!" 

 

Arthur grins at her, leaning on a single crutch this morning.  

 

"I really didn't," Arthur says, "I can't believe Merlin never told me of this wonder. Can I offer you something? Tea? Coffee? Um, I think Merlin got some juice? There's no wine left." 

 

"Mummy has orange juice for breakfast," Joe says, "we need to put the oven on now, and the pan on, and I need to fry these. Help me down." 

 

Joe puts the bowl (of egg, Elena supposes) down and lurches forwards, expecting someone to catch him. Elena lets out a strangled sound, jumping down the steps, but Arthur's there and Joe just catches his shoulder and climbs onto Arthur's good hip, then swings off his arm to the ground. Arthur doesn't seem miffed by being used as a climbing frame, so Elena supposes this is something they've perfected.  

 

"Sorry," Arthur says, "I maybe shouldn't have put him up so high. He wanted to sit up there." 

 

"No, it's fine," Elena says, getting her heart rate back to normal, "It just surprised me. and I wasn't sure... Joe's not very aware of..." 

 

Elena feels herself going bright red, embarrassed and caught off guard. Arthur smiles at her though and waves her explanations away.  

 

"You can't fry those, by the way," Elena says, "you're not allowed to use the cooker." 

 

"But I have to! Arthur doesn't know how!" 

 

"I'm sure we'll manage together. I'll put the bread in the pan and you can tell me when to turn it, yeah?" Arthur says, "but first let me get your Mum something to drink and see if she wants anything other than French bread for breakfast." 

 

"No, she likes French bread. I'll get her orange juice, Uncle Merlin showed me the glasses. You better get the pan on." 

 

Arthur nods, then looks across at Elena, grins at her. Elena takes a seat at the table and watches Joe move around the kitchen as if he owns the place and has for years. He gets a glass out of the dishwasher and comes and puts it on the table in front of her, then squirms away when she tries to give him a cuddle and heads for the fridge, emerging with a huge carton of orange juice, which he carries back two handed.  

 

"I'll pour it," Elena says, before Joe manages to get the lid off.  

 

She knows her boy well enough to grab the juice from him before his stubborn nature makes him grip onto it and demand he be allowed to do the honours. She pours herself a glass, holds out the carton for Joe to put the lid back on, puts the whole thing on the table and then catches Joe before he can escape, tugging him into her lap and cuddling him.  

 

"Morning baby," she says, kissing his hair.  

 

"Mummy!" Joe whines, wriggling, but he does give her a kiss and brief, strangling hug before making his escape. 

 

"I put the first one in the pan," Arthur says, when Joe makes it back over to him, lifting Joe onto his hip, "you tell me when this one needs turning, then you can get some plates and cutlery for the table while I do the next. That way you can eat the first one." 

 

"Okay," Joe says. 

 

Elena smiles, watching the two boys studying the French toast with deeply serious expressions. Once it's been turned, Joe's off again, moving around with certainty. He's at the dish washer, telling them a story about a snail and a frog and a cat and a mouse, when the door opens and Merlin comes in, Lucy bouncing at his heels. Lucy gives one excited bark before falling in behind Joe and trotting after him as he brings a handful of cutlery to the table.  

 

"Morning Ellie," Merlin says, "did you sleep okay?" 

 

"Yes I did, thanks," Elena says, "it was so amazing. You have amazing beds." 

 

Merlin snorts but doesn't say anything about her over enthusiasm, instead going to wrap his arms around Arthur's waist.  

 

"Morning," Arthur says.  

 

"How about you?" Merlin asks, "did you sleep okay?" 

 

"I did," Arthur says, and the way he says it tells Elena that she's not the only one who has broken sleep, sometimes.  

 

She looks up at him, and he's looking at her, and they exchange a brief smile of understanding and comradeship in the face of insomnia before Arthur's burning the French toast and Merlin's saving it. Arthur gets banished to the table, much to Joe's glee, and Merlin takes over.  

 

"You've never made eggy bread in your life," Merlin complains, moving with surety at the stove, "and you burn normal toast. What made you embark on this?" 

 

"I did!" Joe shouts happily, tucking into the first, singed, slice.  

 

He's got honey and cinnamon on it, and he's very very sticky. Elena decides Merlin can deal with it. He created the monster. She turns to Arthur.  

 

"Thanks for looking out for Joe this morning, I assumed he'd woken one of his uncles, who I have no problem with him bothering, not you." 

 

"He woke Merlin, actually, I was up already. I'm an early riser in the winter." 

 

"That's, usually people get up early in the summer, surely?" 

 

"The pain wakes me." 

 

"Oh." 

 

Elena winces. She seems to still be able to put her foot right in her mouth.  

 

"Um, Merlin says you're thinking of studying? You got him dreaming about mortarboards and he's already planning how to deck himself in rainbows for the graduation ceremony." 

 

"Oh god, he did that when we graduated at Cambridge," Elena says, laughing, covering her eyes, "all these impossibly serious dons and professors, all these proud parents, everyone dressed to the nines in sub fusc, and there was Merlin. He sprayed his hair, even. He wore a shirt that he got specially, the pin stripe was ace colours." 

 

"I've seen pictures. It's amazing." 

 

"What about you? Did you graduate? Oh god, that wasn't meant to sound... like it did." 

 

"I'm afraid I'm an Oxford man," Arthur says, his accent becoming much posher, "Baliol, doncha know, like my father." 

 

"Seriously? Oh dear." 

 

"Really. My grandfather, too. He rebelled, though. Before him, we were Trinity men." 

 

"What did you study?" 

 

"PPE." 

 

"What do you do now?" 

 

Arthur gives a laugh and then scratches his head.  

 

"I run a business, most of the time, but I'm not actually doing that at the moment. I was supposed to have a series of meetings around the country this month, we're looking to expand our R&D department and we're buying up a couple of assets. I delegated, though." 

 

"You've got a whole month off? Must be nice, being your own boss." 

 

"Yeah. I had to have yet another operation on my knee in November. It was just a small one, shouldn't have put me out of commission more than a week, but it turned out a little more complicated." 

 

"Sorry." 

 

Merlin comes over and puts a mug of coffee on the table in front of Arthur and a plate of French toast in front of Elena before sitting by Arthur.  

 

"You're not having breads?" Joe asks Arthur, mopping the last of his own around his plate. 

 

"I'll try some of Merlin's. I'm really more of a porridge and muslie kind of person," Arthur says, looking very sorry for it.  

 

"Ew! Gross!" Joe says, also looking sorry about it.  

 

"Joey, run upstairs and wash your hands and face. And wake up your uncle Elyan, I think he's probably least hung over of that lot, see if you can get him to help you get dressed," Merlin says.  

 

"Oh, no," Elena says, "I'll go with him." 

 

"Nooo!" Joe says, pushing at her hand when she reaches out, "I don't want you to! I want to get uncle Elyan! You're boring, Mummy!" 

 

Joe goes skidding across the tiled floor as he runs out, stomping up the stairs, pausing in the doorway to check she's not following him. She waves to him and smiles cheerfully, which makes him scowl at her.  

 

"He's going to get honey all over the place," Elena says. 

 

"We'll make Gwaine clear up," Merlin says, "do you realise that he and Percy drunk nearly two bottles of wine between them?" 

 

"Is that where it all went?" Arthur says, "I did wonder who was the bottomless pit." 

 

"He and Perce have always been into their alcohol. We met Percy through Lance, but Gwaine roped him into being drinking buddies and it was eternally finding him passed out drooling on the sofa that really cemented the relationship," Merlin says.  

 

Elena smiles, thinking back to those days. Most of the time it feels like only yesterday, but then she'll remember some of the stupider things they did and remember they were only eighteen and so very young, and it feels like a life time ago.  

 

"I can't believe we managed to graduate, the ammount we drunk," she says.  

 

"And you were the worst of us all!" Merlin crows, "you used to drink us under the table, and still be sat at said table, chatting with yourself, when the blasted sun came up!" 

 

"Remember the time Gwaine lost his shoes and walked six miles home from that country pub in bare feet?" 

 

"And the time Lance tried to punt when not very sober and ended up in the Cam?" 

 

"And then there was Gwen." 

 

Merlin and Elena take a moment of silence to remember the epic-ness of Gwen in their undergrad years.  

 

"It sounds picturesque," Arthur says.  

 

"To an extent," Elena agrees, "we were complete dicks with no respect for the city or the institution we were part of, but I think that's a huge part of being a student. And we all had imposter syndrome and for every drunk story we have, there are about a hundred working too hard, edge of a break down stories." 

 

"I remember that," Arthur says, "the Oxbridge push. So much pressure it felt like living a year every week." 

 

"Did you do sports, too?" Elena asks, "on top of it? You seem the sporty type. I rowed, and Merlin did the LGBT soc thing, and Lance was footie and rugger. Gwaine did nothing but what he absolutely had to, coasted on his good looks, charm, and disgusting intelligence." 

 

"I rowed, not blues, though. Wasn't good enough. Nearly drove my father to an early grave, when I told him I didn't make the blues team," Arthur says, grinning happily, "played blues footie." 

 

"Did you used, in Oxford, to do the one upping how much time spent in the library thing?" Elena asks. 

 

"Oh yeah. I always lost those, I liked working in cafes," Arthur says, "my mate, though, I swear he never slept in his room. Spent his life in the faculty library." 

 

Joe comes back, tugging a yawning and grumbling Elyan after him, fully dressed. Elena laughs at the ensemble he's chosen, the top of his Batman costume over leggings and shorts, woolly socks covering his feet. And a beanie.  

 

"Wow, Elyan, what wonderful fashion sense," Merlin says. 

 

"He picked," Elyan says, "I was promised French toast." 

 

Merlin gets up and starts messing about at the stove again, Arthur watching him with a pensive, tired look. Elena beckons Joe over and checks he's clothed properly, pats down his hair.  

 

"Mummy, Mum, I got Elyan. He was sleeping in Uncle Gwaine's bed, and Gwaine was naked! He has NO CLOTHES AT ALL!"  

 

Joe giggles, covering his mouth, eyes squinting up in joyful amusement. Elena kisses his hair and hugs the stuffing out of him, loving him even harder than usual when he's happy and silly like this.  

 

"Not a single scrap?" she asks.  

 

"Not a single scrap!" Joe agrees. 

 

"Something you want to tell the class, Elyan?" she says, grinning over at him.  

 

Elyan lifts his head from where he'd pillowed it in his arms and gives her a baleful look.  

 

"Yeah, Gwaine is a menace when he's drunk," Elyan says, "he was wandering about upstairs, not a stitch on him, making lightsaber noises and pretending to be Han Solo. I tried, as the only sober and awake person, to do the sensible thing and put him to bed, but he wouldn't go. So I took him to bed in my room. And you all owe me for that, because he's a cuddler, and he was naked." 

 

"Naked cuddles!" Joe screams and starts tugging at his clothes, trying to get them off.  

 

Elena's distracted by trying to derail Joe's fight for nakedness, but she catches Arthur laughing, doubled over himself, snorting into his mueslie. He's beginning to grow on her.  

 

*** 

There are a lot of people in the kitchen, and they're all talking at once. Elena's telling stories about Cambridge again, Gwen and Lance reminiscing with her, and Arthur listens for a bit, but he loses track of all the names. Joe and Elyan are having thumb wars and debating super-heroes, Merlin's talking to Percy about cows, of all things. Gwaine's lying on the floor in the kitchen half of the room, groaning. Arthur gets up and goes to get a refill of coffee, shuffling around Gwaine's splayed body.  

 

"Sorry," Gwaine says, muffled and slurred.  

 

He sounds very Irish and Arthur looks down at him to smile, his accent reminding him for a moment of Morgana. Gwaine blinks back at him, then gives him a grimace that might pass as a smile.  

 

"I'm so hungover," Gwaine moans, covering his face with his forearm. 

 

"Coffee?" Arthur offers, filling his own mug, "or, Merlin's uncle Gaius has a patented hangover cure you could brave." 

 

"I've had one of those concoctions before. They're not worth the taste. Nothing should taste like goat testis." 

 

Arthur laughs, glances over at the noisy side of the kitchen, down at Gwaine, and makes a decision. Using his crutch and the counter, he gets himself onto the floor and sits against the cupboards, the knob in his back. He shifts sideways until he's comfy, stretches out his bad leg, and sighs in contentment. He keeps quiet, sipping his coffee, listening to the bustle and hustle around him.  

 

"I don't drink like an undergrad any more," Gwaine says, after a while, sounding very sad about it.  

 

"Neither do I," Arthur says. 

 

"Did you ever? You don't seem the type." 

 

"I... no, no, not really. Coffee was always my drug of choice. Black as tar, thick as syrup, half coffee half sugar. It was disgusting, but a really good kick." 

 

"Merlin tells me we are alike in our lack of post grad." 

 

"Mm. I was going to do a masters, specialise a bit, but-" Arthur cuts himself off and drinks his coffee instead.  

 

He doesn't want to talk about the accident that left him a washed up cripple in the middle of the Welsh countryside. Even if it has started to turn out alright, now.  

 

"This house hasn't seen this many people all at once in years," he says, to distract away from his bitten off sentence. 

 

"Thanks for letting us stay, Merlin tells us you're more solitary most of the time." 

 

"I guess. It got pretty lonely, before Merlin moved down, so I'm not complaining. It makes him happy to be able to open his home up to you, so I'm happy to do it." 

 

Gwaine grunts and rolls over onto his stomach, covering his head with his hands, then goes very still before jumping to his feet.  

 

"There's a loo outside," Arthur says, "door to the right just as you leave." 

 

Gwaine bolts and he leaves all the doors open, so they all get to hear him retching his guts up. Arthur ignores it, settling in with his coffee, and Merlin comes over eventually to get him off the floor.  

 

"We're going to go for a walk today, drive up to the Skyrrid. Joey's really excited, he thinks he might spot the giant who stepped on the hill," Merlin says, "do you want to come?" 

 

"Not unless you're planning on carrying me up," Arthur says.  

 

"I could probably do that," Percy rumbles, appearing by Merlin's side and grinning at Arthur, "Percival Jones, don't think we've been properly introduced." 

 

"Arthur," Arthur says, taking the offered hand.  

 

"Thank you for letting us stay," Percy says, "I grew up in South Wales, it's nice to be close again. I miss all the vowels." 

 

"I know the feeling. I don't speak much Welsh, but I miss the sound of it when I'm up in London, and I miss the unpronounceable words on all the signs, and the names." 

 

"We used to speak it at home, but not anywhere else. I lost my accent a long time ago and can barely speak two words now-a-days." 

 

"I'm not walking up any bleeding moutains," Gwaine says, coming back in with Lance and Gwen, "I don't care who tries to persuade me. Perce, explain to them that we're too hungover." 

 

"I'm not hungover," Percy says, "I drank plenty of water, as I suggested you did." 

 

"I hate you," Gwaine says. 

 

"It'll be fun, the fresh air will revive you," Merlin says.  

 

"Not going," Gwaine says. 

 

"He can stay," Arthur reassures Merlin, "it won't bother me." 

 

Merlin argues on, but in the end Gwaine's allowed to stay. It takes about an hour for everyone to get ready, and Gwaine retreats to the livingroom before ten minutes have passed so once the mass exodus has occurred, Arthur has the kitchen to himself. He takes advantage of the quiet to listen to the news, catch up with his emails and do a little bit of work. Then he tackles the stairs and searches Gwaine out.  

 

He's conked out on the sofa in the upstairs living-room, drooling into the cushions, face pale. Arthur pokes at him with his crutch until he wakes up with a start, rolling off the sofa and yelling. Arthur waits for him to blink into consciousness and notice his audience.  

 

"You bastard," Gwaine grumbles.  

 

"I wanted to know if you wanted anything to eat, or a coffee. And to tell you there's a living-room downstairs, where I usually hang out. You are welcome to join me. I'm going to light a fire." 

 

"Oh. Well, that's very host-ly of you. And you came all the way up the stairs, too." 

 

"Yup," Arthur agrees, leaning on his crutch, waiting for Gwaine to ask.  

 

Gwaine doesn't, and Arthur decides to make Merlin a really nice dinner for schooling his friends so well. He leaves Gwaine to his own devices and works his way back down the stairs. He's half-way down, hanging onto the banister and his crutch, panting with the effort, when Gwaine appears at the top.  

 

"I hate to ask," Gwaine calls, "but do you want a hand?" 

 

He sounds far too amused for politeness. Arthur gives him the finger and continues on his way. Gwaine hops down the stairs and shoves his hands in his pockets, whistling, keeping pace with Arthur once he's even.  

 

"Fine," Arthur pants, "fine. Other side." 

 

Gwaine skips round to Arthur's good side and Arthur uses him as a prop to get the rest of the way down. It's actually pretty helpful, and Gwaine's good at it- he doesn't try to help, just lets Arthur use him and direct him. When they reach the living-room Gwaine stretches out on the sofa while Arthur makes himself comfortable in the giant arm chair with the built in leg rest.  

 

"Thanks," he says, grudgingly.  

 

"No problemo. You got a tv in here?" 

 

Arthur fishes the remote out of the holder, Merlin always puts it back in Arthur's chair caddy because he's useless, but well trained, and raises electronic curtain that covers the screen. Gwaine makes suitably impressed noises, but Arthur shuts it again.  

 

"Not in the mood for TV," he explains, "you can watch if you like, though." 

 

"Nah, I'm good, just curious. Speaking of curiosity, I am curiouse about your leg, too, but you don't have to tell me anything. Just, I'm not always good at keeping my curiosity in check, so I thought I'd better warn you, and give you the out before you need it. Just tell me to step off and I'll leave it." 

 

Arthur looks at Gwaine and assesses. He's not fishing for information, he's honestly just telling, Arthur decides. Gwaine seems the type who goes around putting his foot in it. There's something warm settling in Arthur's chest at the thought that Gwaine cares about Merlin enough to make this work with him, with Arthur, even to the extent of apologising in advance for impetuousness that Arthur would bet Gwaine usually is proud of.  

 

"I fell," Arthur blurts, "it was... very stupid. Really, incredibly so. I was trying to show off, to impress. I fell off a mountain board. I was so sure I could do it. We were camping, North Wales, middle of nowhere, and I fell right the way down a... hill. A very steep hill. I cracked my pelvis, broke my hip, and completely fucked up my knee. And I was so embarressed and angry about it that I didn't do the PT right, and fucked up my recovery." 

 

"Oh my god," Gwaine says, and Arthur can tell he's trying not to laugh, "I'm so sorry, I was expecting something much more... I thought you crashed a car, or skiing, or something. Mountain boarding. Oh god, I'm sorry." 

 

"You can laugh, if it'll stop you apologising like a broken toy," Arthur says, resigned.  

 

Gwaine cracks up, laughing himself silly, and Arthur finds himself grinning. No one's really laughed at him like that before, not for falling off the board. Merlin had been confused because he'd had no idea what  mountain board was, and then he'd been terrified because Arthur had shown him a picture of the hill. Morgana had called him an idiot and cried a lot, but he'd still been pretty messed up, physically, at that point. Arthur hasn't really told many other people.  

 

"I can just imagine, swaggering around, then just toppling over. I bet it was scary, though. I've done mountain boarding and hurtling down a hill is bad enough, without the falling." 

 

"Scariest thing of my life, physically," Arthur admits, "we had to wait ages for an ambulance, and in the end I was air-lifted. I was just lying there, in unbearable pain. I didn't even know the people I was with that well. The guy I was trying to impress thought it was pathetic and left me there." 

 

"Wait, that makes it sound like he was the person you were with." 

 

"Yeah. He took me camping. Apparently he was just trying to get into my pants, as it were, trying to jolly me along. I thought... well. Anyway. I thought I could impress him with how awesome I was." 

 

"And he just left you there? I'm not the greatest bloke in the world, but even I know that's a dick move." 

 

"It was a bit. His mates were nice, though. Someone stayed the whole wait and held my hand, even came to the hospital with me, called my sister, waited till she arrive so I'd have a vaguely familiar face. Leon Mellor, actually." 

 

"Your nearest neighbour?" 

 

"Yeah. He's how I ended up buying this place." 

 

"I got the impression you grew up around here." 

 

"Yeah, but not here here. A couple of towns over. Closer to Hereford." 

 

Arthur doesn't tell Gwaine how he'd clung to Leon, once Leon had offered his kindness. Leon also offered him a place to stay, a place in his life. Arthur had latched onto that. He'd not had much of a support system, just Morgana. And Morgana wasn't in a place where she could be much help, though she did stick around a lot and gave him a lot of love. Arthur shakes himself out of his memeories and glances across at Gwaine. Gwaine's frowning at the wall, hand tapping lightly against his thigh, but he doesn't look pitying.  

 

"I lost me Da, when I was a teenager," Gwaine says, "a confidence for a confidence, yeah? I was so bitterly angry at the world for taking him away. Everyone thinks I coasted at Cambridge, and I did, I was lucky enough to be intelligent enough not to work as hard as some have to. But I got a third and wanted a first, drunk when I should have been working, and lived the happy go lucky life because I couldn't do anything different." 

 

"Grief fucks with focus," Arthur agrees, "that must have sucked balls." 

 

"It did, it did! Because I was happy, I was just a bum, you know? twatting about, getting drunk, the joker of the group. But I was so miserable, and no one noticed. They still don't know. I mean, after that first year I was happier, and they all helped, the friends I made. But yeah, I was miserable." 

 

"A confidence for a confidence," Arthur murmurs, "I won't tell them." 

 

"Merlin knows. Wouldn't ask you to keep anything from him. Merlin was my first real friend in a long time. I love him dearly, don't hurt him, yeah?" 

 

Arthur turns the TV on, after promising not to. It's too intense. Gwaine seems happy to binge watch 24, so they spend the afternoon mocking the habit US tv shows have of recycling plots, the obsession with war and terrorism, and laughing at the idiotic stunts Jack pulls.  

 

*** 

"Oh man," Merlin complains, holding a stitch in his side, "I thought we were hiking, not sprinting. Slow up, Perce!" 

 

Percy and Joe, up ahead, break into a run, laughing wildly, Lucy chasing after them, barking. Everyone else slows down, scattering along the path in breathless ones and twos. Merlin treks up towards the head of them all, gathering the others on his way.  

 

"We're nearly at the top," he says, when they're all together, "let's just ignore Percy's pace and relax a bit, yeah?" 

 

There are groans of agreement and they meander the last bit, slow and tired, quiet. When they finally reach the top Percy's stood on top of the stone marker, Joe with him, holding Percy's hands. Percy's got his shoes off, feet planted firmly on the edges of the stones, balance impecable, holding Joe steady as he whoops with joy at seeing them all converge on him.  

 

"I won, Mummy!" Joe yells, "I won! I beat even uncle Percy!" 

 

"That's wonderful, baby," Elena says, "maybe you should hop down, now? It's time to get some food and something to drink. I want to make sure you're warm enough, too." 

 

Elena holds her arms out and Joe gives her a contemplative look that makes Merlin giggle, then looks up at Percy, then back at his mother, then throws himself off the rock towards Elena. She catches him, as always. Elyan offers Percy his shoes and, Lance and Gwen are stood a bit apart, looking around. Merlin takes it upon himself to set up the picnic blanket and the food he was carrying in a dip, just out of the wind. He pours himself some hot juice and sits himself down to wait for the others. 

 

Joe's the first to join him, leaning into him and asking loads of questions about the giant and the hill and demanding hot juice, too. Then Elena, with the lion's share of the picnic food. Then Gwen and Lance, still caught up with one another. Percy and Elyan wander over last, chatting about friends from Leeds who Merlin doesn't know. Lucy comes up panting, too, and Merlin pours water from her bottle for her to lap up. She flops down with them, panting, slobering.  

 

It's cold, but they're wrapped up well and they brought flasks of soup, tea, hot juice. They eat their sandwiches and fruit in almost-comfort. They don't linger, though, too cold to lie around. They pack up quickly after they're done and Percy starts a game of tag to entertain Joe, which everyone gets involved in to warm up, Lucy getting over-excited and chasing her own tail. That ends when Lance falls into a hole and twists his ankle.  

 

"Sorry," Lance says, limping a bit and leaning on Percy, "sorry, sorry. I'm such a twat." 

 

The journey down is taken more slowly, Elena walking with Joe and talling him stories, Percy holding up Lance until his ankle stops hurting, Gwen calling Lance names but offer her own shoulder as support. Merlin walks with Elyan and listens to him talking about the research grant he just received, the teaching he's doing, how his Phd's coming along.  

 

"And you, Merlin," Elyan says, "are you happy?" 

 

"Yeah, as happy as we ever are, right? It gets lonely, without you guys. But it's amazing out here, beautiful. And I'm writing loads. I'm on the second draft of my novel." 

 

"Is this the same one you were writing at Cambridge?" 

 

"Yeah. It's changed quite a bit. You can have a read, if you like. You always gave the best feedback." 

 

Elyan laughs and points out that that isn't really hard, and they end up reminiscing about how useless their mates are, which Gwen and Lance over hear and leads to them tag-teaming a defence. Merlin pauses, halfway down, and looks around at his friends, in his home countryside. At Joey, running around like a crazy person looking for giants, at Elena, grown into a fantastic mother and amazing woman, at Percy, still quiet and big and warm hearted, chasing after Joe. At Gwen and Lance, in love as ever and still with so much love left over for the rest of them, Gwen tucking Lance's scarf in to keep him warm and rummaging in her pack for spare gloves for Elyan. And Elyan, the baby of their group, the academic, cleverest of them all.  

 

"I love you guys," Merlin says.  

 

Everyone turns to look at him, and they all look very fond of him. Then Elyan yells an insult for being soppy, Gwen whacks him around the head, and Joe jumps on him with a war cry. It attracts lucy's attention and she starts barking, running up to them again. 

 

"I do!" Merlin insists, "I love you, you horrible lot!" 

 

He chases them down the mountain, Joe on his back, Lucy at his heels (quickly over taking him and running in circles) and they're all falling about laughing when they reach the cars. Merlin corals Lucy and puts her lead on, gets her bowl out of the car boot and pours her water to drink as they change. There's more hot drinks passed around as they get out of their muddy shoes and Elena gets Joe out of his damp clothes and bundles him up in spare woolly jumper, socks and sweats. Percy's slowest to change and Merlin laughs, nudging him. 

 

"Glad Gwaine's not here to make the joke?" he asks.  

 

"You just implied it," Percy says, "so, not so much." 

 

"You guys used to bicker like an old married couple," Merlin remembers, "I always thought you'd end up sleeping together, at least. If not married." 

 

"Ha! I love Gwaine, but I'd kill him within a year. I don't know how I lived with him for two, must have had something to do with the alcohol." 

 

"You two were like the... the... Josh and Drake of us all." 

 

"Yeah, he was a good mate. Still is, when I see him. You ready, Merls?" 

 

Merlin falls asleep on the way back to the house and Percy, laughing all the way, carries him in like a baby. Joe, also being carried, giggles along with Percy and Merlin isn't sure if they're laughing at him or with him. When they burst into the kitchen, though, and he's greeted by the smell of Arthur's infamous Sheppherd's Pie, and the sight of Arthur himself stood with his back against the counter, wathcing them all, and the sound of Arthur laughing, he doesn’t care. He settles in Percy's arms and waves lazily at Arthur.  

 

"I take it," Arthur says, gimping over on his crutch and touching Percy's arm, "that you really could have carried me up the mountain then. Good _walk,_ Merry?" 

 

"I had a very nice walk, and a very nice ride from the car," Merlin says, wriggling down so he can kiss Arthur hello, "did you and Gwiane have fun? Where is he, by the way?" 

 

Merlin looks around the kitchen but he can't see Gwaine anywhere. 

 

"He's kipping on the sofa in the living-room, he fell asleep somewhere in the middle of the millionth episode of 24, and I came to make dinner. It'll be ten minutes, the table's set, so all you've got to do is wash up and maybe change." 

 

Merlin smiles and hugs Arthur, pressing his face into Arthur's neck.  

 

"You spoil me something rotten," Merlin says. 

 

"I do not. I'm mean and cranky, stop ruining my rep," Arthur says.  

 

Someone plugs a phone into the speakers and 'Knights in White Satin' blasts across the kitchen. Merlin sways Arthur to the tune, laughing, knocking them off balance. Arthur tries to catch them, but Percy steadies them in the end, reminding them they're not alone. Arthur pulls away and goes back to the stove, poking at a pan there.  

 

"Everyone!" Merlin says, "it's dinner, time to wash hands and get out of muddy clothes! Go, go, go!" 

 

Joe screams in excitement and pounds out of the kitchen. 

 

"Did someone get Luce?" Merlin asks. 

 

"She's in our room, escaping the chaos," Arthur says, "go on, you need to change and wash, too. Use the ensuit. And can you wake Gwaine?" 

 

Merlin grins, all kinds of ways to wake Gwaine up surging into his mind. He puts a finger to his lips and tiptoes out of the kitchen. 

 

*** 

 

Elena decides that Joe needs pyjamas, to help him calm down. He gets naked willingly enough, splashing about in the bathroom sink in his birthday suit, singing happily. Then Elena has to wrestle him away, into a towel, and the trouble starts.  

 

"I'll do you a deal," she says, once she's got him into their room but no closer to having clothes on, "you can wear your super special Wolverine pyjamas, and slippers, for dinner, as a treat. Yes?" 

 

Joey thinks about it, then puts the slippers and pyjama top on as a compromise. Elena wrestles him into the trousers and lifts him into her arms. He yells and then cries, and then peters out against her shoulder, sniffling and limp.  

 

"Big day, hmm?" she says, rocking him, "yeah, it's been an exciting day. I love you, baby." 

 

She carries him down the stairs, heavy in her arms. They're walking past a door that's ajar when all of a sudden there's a shriek and a thud from inside. Elena jumps and Joe starts to cry again, pressing his face into her shoulder. She pushes open the door and is not at all surprised to find Gwaine on the floor, cursing at Merlin, who's having hysterics. 

 

"Your face!" Merlin says.  

 

"Hello, guys," Elena says, "you made us jump. Look, Joey, it's just your silly uncles." 

 

Joe presses closer to her, clinging on. Gwaine gets up off the floor and shoves Merlin aside, gently, before coming over to rub Joe's back.  

 

"Sorry Joe," Gwaine says, "I was just playing with your uncle Merlin. We get excited when we're together, we don't see each other much. We were pretty loud, huh?" 

 

Joe nods.  

 

"Yeah, sorry," Merlin says, contrite but still amused, "I just woke Gwaine up and he was surprised." 

 

"You woke me up by putting that jelly thing on my face!" Gwaine says, outraged, holding up a wobbly rubber thing, dripping wet, "I thought it was a sea monster!" 

 

Joe peeks out to see what the sea monster is. 

 

"There aren't no monsters, Uncle Gwaine. They're just stories," Joe points out tentatively. 

 

"Oh yeah?" Gwaine says, "then what's this?" 

 

He wriggles the jelly thing at Joe.  

 

"It's a toy," Joe says, picking it up, "It's a rubber octopus. It's wet." 

 

"I got you good," Merlin says. 

 

Gwaine scowls, but winks at Joe before chasing Merlin out towards the kitchen. Elena follows, Joe still on her hip. They get there just in time to see Arthur, leaning on the end of the counter that splits the kitchen and dining areas, catch Gwaine and Merlin in each hand. Both men still, not wanting to pull Arthur over. 

 

"Behave, you two," Arthur says, "you nearly knocked me down. What if I had been carrying dinner? You'd have gone hungry." 

 

"Sorry, Arthur," Merlin says.  

 

"Sorry, Arthur," Gwaine echoes, sounding less apologetic and more amused.  

 

"Go sit down, you idiots," Arthur says.  

 

Elena sits too, the boys either side of her, Joe staying in her lap. Arthur brings over a dish of Sheppherd's pie and puts it on the table, just as Elyan and Gwen wander in.  

 

"Lance is just coming," Gwen says, taking a seat next to Merlin, "I think Percy's falling down the plug hole." 

 

"Like Shirley," Joe says, nodding seriously. 

 

"That's right," Elena says, "Did we bring that book? Maybe we could have that story, tonight?" 

 

"Nuh-uh," Joe says, shaking his head violently, "I want _Arfur_ to tell me about the _giants._ Uncle Merlin says he knows loads of stories." 

 

Elena looks up in time to catch the faint flush across Arthur's cheeks, the pleased little smile. Merlin obviously catches it, too, because when Elena glances his way he looks totally besotted.  

 

"I can do that," Arthur says, "yeah, I can do that." 

 

Later, once Joe's been put to bed (he had three stories down in the down-stairs living-room, snug a a bug on the sofa with Lucy), talk turns to tomorrow's plans. 

 

"We need to put up the tree," Arthur says, "Pendragon tradition, decorating on Christmas eve. What about you guys? Any traditions you like?" 

 

"We open one present each on Christmas eve," Elena says, "Joe always gives me something home-made, and it's sort of become tradition that Christmas eve is Home-Made-Present-Time. I've got a Batman cape for him that I made, I need to give him that tomorrow." 

 

"We always make punch," Gwen says, "and do a sort of thanks giving thing. We have a glass and say something good about the past year, and everyone drinks to it." 

 

"I don't have any traditions," Gwaine says, grinning widely, "I'm Jewish." 

 

Elena leans into Gwaine, giving him a cuddle.  

 

"Gwen and me used to have a new ornament each year," Elyan contributes, "that morphed into giving each other a new one each Christmas Eve. We can do that when Elena does her home made thing." 

 

Percy remains silent, and Elena gives him a cuddle, too, knowing he's thinking about his alcoholic father and the brothers and sister he hasn't seen since he was ten and they were all taken into care. Gwaine climbs over Elena and into Percy's lap, smacking a kiss onto his cheek.  

 

"I lie," Gwaine says, loudly, "I do have  tradition. Perce and I started it at Cambridge. Every year we used to go carol signing." 

 

Percy smiles, then shoves Gwaine off his lap. Arthur reaches out and stops Gwaine from hitting his head on the table and, to Elena's surprise, gives him a fond little smile. They must have bonded while everyone else was walking.  

 

"Leon carols," Arthur says, "we can go up tomorrow, see if he'll take you along." 

 

"What about you, princess?" Gwaine says, "no singing voice?" 

 

"I can't schlep around the village in the cold evening, my leg will not agree. I'd be crippled for a week." 

 

"And you sing like the back-end of a donkey?" Gwaine suggests. 

 

"He's not actually a bad singer, per-se," Merlin says, "just... enthusiastic." 

 

Arthur scowls and everyone laughs and there's chaos as they deride one another's singing, and it's about to descend into bickering when Percy starts to sing. Elena's heard it before, and so has everyone else, but they all still go quiet to listen to him. His voice is rich and higher than expected but still full. He sings 'In the Bleak Midwinter' and halfway through, the quiet around them like a blanket, Gwaine joins in, harmonising, deep baritone complimenting Percy's lighter tone.  

 

Elena tucks her feet up and watches her friends. Gwen and Lance holding one another's hands, Gwen holding Elyan's shoulder, Arthur leaning towards Merlin, Percy and Gwaine wathcing only one another. The third verse, Merlin joins in, and Gwen. Lance and Elyan stay silent, but Elena joins in, too. Arthur opens and closes his mouth a few times, and Merlin squeezes his arm in encouragement. In the fourth verse, Arthur joins in.  

 

Everyone slowly stops singing, amazed, leaving just Arthur and Percy singing, Arthur's clear countortennor light against Percy. Arthur stumbles, realising he's singing without everyone, and in the end it's just Percy again. When he's done everyone stays silent.   

 

"Well," Gwaine says, eventually, "not the back end of a donkey." 

 

"He was a chorister," Merlin says, "went to one of those posh schools." 

 

"Christ Church Chorister's school," Arthur admits, pinking again. 

 

"We're definitely going carolling tomorrow, and you're coming," Gwaine says, "Perce can carry you, if he has to." 

 

"I could do that," Percy says, repeating himself, smiling at Arthur. 

 

"I'll stay here," Arthur says, firmly, and then gets up and hobbles out.  

 

"What the hell?" Gwaine says, "What did I say?" 

 

"Nothing," Merlin says, smiling softly, "he's just embarrassed. Also, he really can't do the carroling, the cold hurts." 

 

"Oh," Gwaine says, "I'll go apologise." 

 

Merlin looks surprised when Gwaine follows Arthur out, and Elena wonders just how much they bonded this afternoon. She grins at Merlin and he smiles back, pleased. 

 

*** 

 

Arthur wakes to an unpleasant amount of pain. He's lying in an awkward position, after a restless night, and his hip feels like it's breaking again, his knee setting up a throbbing, pounding counterpoint. He groans and tries to shift, but moving sends sharp pain chittering through his whole body, shooting down his legs and arms and up into his head. He lies still, muscles spasming against the pain.  

 

"Arthur?" Merlin mumbles, hand coming to rest on Arthur's stomach. 

 

Arthur tries to speak, but all that comes out is a garbled moan, gasping for breath. Arthur tries to move again and gasps (okay, it's almost a yell) as pain rides through him, playing merry havok with him.  

 

"Pain?" Merlin asks, moving around and making the bed shift.  

 

Arthur uncurls his hands so seven fingers are showing (because this isn't a ten, this isn'the worst it's been, not even close. On second thoughts, he puts a finger down so it's six). Merlin presses a pill into his mouth and a sip of water from the small cap they keep by the bed for just such moments. Arthur lies still after swallowing, waiting, praying for it to help. It does, but it doesn't take all the pain and it doesn't take the spasms and he still can't move without everything stiffening and hurting.  

 

Merlin gives him more med and Arthur lies, pain racheting through him, waiting for whatever it is Merlin's giving him to help. Eventually he can move and Merlin helps him build up his pillow again, supporting his leg and taking his weight off his bad side. Arthur moans again and closes his eyes, tears trickling over his cheeks.  

 

"Morning," Merlin says, kissing his damp cheek, "I'm gonna go call Leon to come, and I'm gonna see if I can get hold of your doc. It's probably just the cold, it was freezing last night and is supposed to get colder today." 

 

"Goodie," Arthur manages. 

 

"I'll see if I can light the fire in here, but I'm shit at building them and the last one died completely. I've put the radiator as high as it goes and we have extra blankets. Um, Gwaine can light fires..." 

 

"Yeah, okay," Arthur says, knowing Merlin's asking if he minds Gwaine seeing him like this, prone, pinned by pain.  

 

Merlin gets out of bed and Arthur's left alone with the pain for a while. Gwaine comes in at some point and lights the fire. He pauses to touch Arthur's hand briefly, but then he's gone again, probably following Merlin's orders to leave him alone. Arthur kind of wishes he hadn't. He doesn't mind Gwaine. He lies still for a while longer, planning all the work he'll do on the house come Spring. And the garden. He's got around to a hypothetical harvest of corn on the cobb, potatoes, carrots and lettuces when Leon comes in. 

 

"You look like shit, mate," Leon says, sitting on the side of the bed, "I'll avoid your bad side entirely, looks painful." 

 

Leon helps Arthur over onto his stomach, building him a structure of pillows to keep his weight off the bad side. The drugs are kicking in and he's feeling floaty and high, muscles limp and relaxed. He's still in pain, can still feel the deep throbs and sharp pinches from his hip. Leon's put his brace on the knee and that's feeling a bit better, the knot of heat and pain turning to a gentle pulsing.  

 

Leon kneads his back and good thigh, over his arse and up again. Arthur's always embarrassed when Leon does his bum, but Leon calls it a Gluteus Maximus, just another muscle, and Arthur's is apparently tense after taking the slack his hip and knee leave. So, Arthur tries not to be embarrassed when Leon's hand knead into his bum.  

 

He drifts, Leon's hands warm and familiar. Merlin comes in and he and Leon start chatting, the wash of their voices lulling Arthur further. Merlin comes and goes, and Arthur's pretty sure Lucy wanders in with Joe on her heels at some point, but he's too groggy to really chart his surroundings. The longer Leon works, the less the pain becomes and the groggier he gets, until he's limp and useless, mind a sludge, moving at a snails pace, melting into the bed.  

 

"Feeling better?" Merlin asks.  

 

Arthur blinks, unable to work out how he got from his stomach to his back, when Leon stopped working him over, when Merlin came to sit with him. He tries a nod, and nothing spasms or shoots pain or hurts much. He relaxes into his pillow nest and smiles at Merlin, stupid and slow.  

 

"Good. The others have taken Lucy for a walk, Leon's in the kitchen writing up your notes. The doc says to just take it easy, take some meds, take things slowly. It's just the cold." 

 

"I'm investing... in heating," Arthur manages, tongue thick. 

 

"Good idea. Though, Gwaine's fire's going well. I'm almost impressed." 

 

"Like him." 

 

"Mm, I noticed. He's a good man, somewhere underneath it all." 

 

"Told him." 

 

"About falling down a cliff?" 

 

"Hill." 

 

"It was a cliff. I don't care what you and Leon say. You're both idiots. Anyway, Gwaine's here, actually, he avoids walking if he possibly can. I think he's reading upstairs." 

 

"Hmm. Leon. Sing." 

 

"Oh, yeah, I'll talk to him. Do you realise that you're talking in slo mo? It's impresseive." 

 

"I'm not," Arthur says, though he's not entirely sure.  

 

He reaches out and watches his fingers uncurl, drops his hand against Merlin's thigh and waits for it to be taken. Merlin laughs, but then time slips and Arthur's tossed on a drugged sea, uneven, unballanced, nausea surging. He retches, hoping Merlin's close so he doesn't aspirate his vomit. That happened twice, before Merlin lived with him to help him.  

 

"Shit. Merlin!" 

 

Arthur retches again, tears sprining into his eyes, flopping himself onto his side seeing as Merlin's not helping. He vomits up a bit of stomach bile, then manages to get hold of himself.  

 

"Shit. Merlin's talking to Leon in the kitchen. I'll get him. Hang on." 

 

Arthur closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep. He half wakes when Merlin comes and cleans him up but not really, too dopey to really wakes. He sleeps deeper when Merlin's there, though, so he knows Merlin's close when the dreams stop and he falls into blackness. 

 

*** 

 

Merlin looks at Arthur where his head's resting in his lap. He looks pale and there's still pain showing, even after all the pills and rest and massages. Merlin sighs and brushes a hand through his hair. Leon comes in and touches Merlin's shoulder.  

 

"Yeah?" Merlin asks.  

 

"I've talked to Gwaine about carolling, just send them up about five. Want us to skip you guys, give you some peace?" 

 

"No. Arthur will probably be awake this evening and want distraction." 

 

"I hope he sleeps, it's still early, he could get a solid few hours in. Might help." 

 

"Yeah, last night was't the best. Poor fucker, we were supposed to do the tree today." 

 

"I'm going to have to leave you to it, I'm afraid. It's Christmas eve so people are going home early and a farm never stops, I've got a lot to do before tonight. call, though, if you need?" 

 

"Will do. Thanks, Leon, you're good to him." 

 

"He's easy to be good to. Really, he is. Even when I met him and he was such an idiot and so young, he was easy to stay with, easy to look after. Even when he's a complete prat. I should go, I'm getting sentimental." 

 

"People will be up later for singing." 

 

Leon leaves and Merlin's alone with Arthur, nothing to do except wait around. He stays close, it seems to help Arthur sleep better. He tries the internet, a film, a book, but in the end he just sits and looks at the wall. He's doing some solid ceiling gazing when Gwaine taps on the door and sticks his head in.  

"Merls? Sorry to disturb you, I just wondered if you wanted something to eat?" 

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, I guess so." 

"Should I make something for, uh, Arthur?" 

"No, he won't eat with this pill. It makes him sick." 

"Ah, I'm sorry, man. This sucks." 

"Yeah. It's not usually so bad, you know? Or, well, not... only when it's cold. This isn't even the worst. One day last winter... well, it's not my story." 

"I won't say anything, if you need to talk." 

"He had to have a morphine drip and couldn't move for five days, stuck flat on his back and floating on a cloud of drugs. It was awful. I just don't want him to hurt." 

"I'll make soup and toasties, yeah?" 

 

Merlin smiles. Gwaine's solution to everything is food. Got a cold? Eat an orange. Or clementines on ice-cream, the juice wallowing the scoops. Got a headache? Cup of tea and chips. Feeling sad? cheese toasties and soup. 

"Dr. Food, a cure for every diagnosis," Merlin mutters to Gwaine's retreating back.  

He kind of really wants a toastie and soup now, though, so he says it quietly enough that Gwaine doesn't hear it. Gwaine stays, when he's delivered food. He must read something in Merlin's body language, because he leaves, then comes back with his own food and takes a seat in the chair that lives by the fire, tucking his legs up under him.  

They talk quietly, not wanting to wake Arthur, but Gwaine keeps making Merlin laugh. Arthur manages to sleep through it all, the sleep of the dead or the drunk or the drugged. He shifts now and then and Merlin has to re-settle him, but it doesn't seem to disturb him at all.  

"He's dead to the world," Gwaine marvels, "does he often sleep like this?" 

"No. Only when he's exhausted from pain and restless sleep. And drugged to the gills. He's on a cocktail of painkillers and muscle relaxants and sleeping aids. Doc concocted it just for him, it's specially designed to knock him out. It makes him sick as a do and grumpy as fuck, so we've that to look forward to tonight." 

"Good times." 

"It is, actually, most of the year. It's amazing times. You guys aren't seeing his best. Arthur's best is... amazing." 

"So Leon says, too. You all talk about him like he's a god or something." 

"He got you talking about your Dad. Tell me that's not a miracle. And you were sober, as well." 

"A confidence for a confidence, I was paying a debt." 

"Yeah. Exactly how many people have you told about that?" 

Gwaine goes quiet and thoughtful, a little smile spreading over his face, and he points at Merlin, then at Arthur. Merlin nods. Gwaine's smile grows a little and he laughs.  

"Okay, he's probably alright." 

"Yup. I'll show you my office before you leave, it’s amazing. Arthur made the desk and shelves and did the painting, set everything up for me before I moved down." 

"He loves you, then?" 

"Yeah." 

"Good." 

"What about you? What's your love life like?" 

"It's nonexistant, unless you count mindless, meaningless sex. Which is always enjoyable." 

"Ugh, gross." 

"How did you even meet Arthur? You never really told us." 

"Aven meets. He came to a few London meets, and I went to one in Worcester which he was at. We started meeting up outside of that, and the rest, as they say, is history." 

"Romantic." 

"It was rather." 

Gwaine looks down at his lap, face falling into seriousness that is rare.  

"I envy you. Not the romance, the, the... companionship. Closeness. Whatever. It gets lonely sometimes, in London." 

"Gets lonely here, too." 

"Yeah, I guess. But, there are people everywhere, and I know a fair few of them, but it's just... I feel very alone. Without you. I like Ellie, and I love Joe to bits, and the others, but you were my best mate." 

"And Perce." 

"Yeah." 

"Did you two fall out?" Merlin asks, remembering the tone Percy had talked about Gwaine, the past tense, the way they're keeping apart this week. 

"I... we kind of did. It was more of a... I did something, which wasn't a very good thing, and he forgave me but it's still awkward." 

"What did you do?" 

"I slept with Eira." 

Merlin starts, staring at Gwaine. He remembers Eira, she'd been a homophobe who made their lives difficult for a while the last year of term, and had tried to set Elyan up to be gay bashed when he visited Gwen. She did some damage to all of them, not least to Percy with the insults she flung at him and the snide little comments about his lack of family.  

"Jesus," Merlin says, half admiringly, "you really do have no morals." 

"I knew her, before. In the second year, before she realised I was involved in the LGBT soc through you. Before she realised it even existed. I liked her. A lot. When she started hanging around us, I just... I liked her. I really, really liked her. And yeah, I slept with her, and Percy found out and was understandably hurt that I was... friends. with her." 

"Understandably. Yeah." 

"I shouldn't have said anything. Now you'll be mad, too." 

"She was incredibly unkind to a lot of people I care about. Including you. I'll just, shove it all under that umbrella and calls it quits. It was a long time ago." 

"Perce doesn't see it that way." 

"Probably it's just awkward. I assume you've had fights over it, your friendship probably fell apart. Then, London, we started to drift apart, and then we all went our separate ways. I doubt he still holds a grudge." 

Gwaine doesn't look convinced, but he doesn't argue. He just shrugs. They sit in silence for a while, Gwaine sulking by the fire, Merlin doing some more wall gazing. Arthur sleeps until four pm, when everyone's back, spread out across the kitchen, Gwaine with them. Lucy's in with Arthur and when Arthur wakes she comes and fetches Merlin, which gets Joey excited about being able to train Lucy to other cool things.  

Merlin tells Luce to stay with Joe and heads through to the bedroom. Arthur's kind of half awake, beached on his back, arm fussing with the blankets around him. He squints at Merlin through one eye, neck straining to raise his head, then flops back and grins widely at the ceiling, hand going from fussing to patting until Merlin sits beside him.  

"How's the pain?" Merlin asks. 

"Mm. Good. I'm really really high." 

"Yes, yes you are." 

Arthur giggles and tucks his hand under Merlin's thigh, tickling and scritching at Merlin's jeans. Merlin's usually ticklish so he's glad he's wearing jeans and can ignore it. He ruffles Arthur's hair and knuckles at his scalp, grinning down at him.  

"Mm," Arthur says, purring, turning his head to press against Merlin's hand, "Mmm." 

Merlin knuckles at Arthur's head again, then just cradles it and watches Arthur's face wobble around it's drug induced, gormless expressions. Arthur's eyes open and close, sometimes just one, sometimes, both, humming and pressing into Merlin's hand. Merlin laughs at how easy high!Arthur is to please.  

He's about to get Arthur thinking about whether he wants to get up or not when the talking in the other room, audible through the two open doors, stops. There's quiet and that means something bad. Merlin listens, waiting for whatever's about to happen. There's humming, like Arthur's, then they starts singing 'O Little Town of Bethlehem'. 

"Singing," Arthur murmurs, eyes opening wide and amazed.  

"Yeah," Merlin says, smiling.  

They listen, Arthur lying quiet and content, through 'O Little Town' and 'Good King Wenceslas', then Arthur hums along to 'O Come all Ye Faithful'. Merlin laughs as Arthur's enthusiasm increases. There's a pause after that, and then 'God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen comes through and Arthur starts bellowing along. Merlin tries really hard not to laugh, but Arthur's really getting into it. Half way through he sits up and conducts an invisible choir one handed, singing loudly and out of tune, and Merlin loses it. Gwaine comes and stands in the doorway, peering in at Arthur, and grins at Merlin.  

"You want to come join us, Arthur?" Gwaine asks.  

Arthur twists and sings louder, getting breathless as his new position tugs at his bad side.  

"Turn around, you idiot," Merlin says, getting Arthur back into a comfy position, "you can get up if you stop singing for two secs." 

"Crutches, Merlin! I am to go sing!" Arthur says, inching his way to the edge of the bed.  

He's got his legs over the side and is using Gwaine as a prop to get himself upright by the time Merlin's dug up both crutches and brought them over. Gwaine's laughing, holding Arthur up.  

"He's trying to talk me into carrying him," Gwaine explains to Merlin.  

"It hurts," Arthur complains.  

Merlin props him up with crutches and grabs a couple of pillows off the bed.  

"You can walk through, I'll make you a comfy chair in there, alright?" 

Arthur grumbles all the slow way, but when he gets through to the kitchen and Lucy and Joe both greet him enthusiastically, the rest of them huddled around some song sheets Leon must have left, Arthur forgets he's hurting and tries to hurry over to join everyone.  

Merlin pulls the big chair with the arms over to the fir and sets it up with pillows and a short foot stool, also bulked with pillows, to support Arthur's knee. It takes about ten minutes to get Arthur sitting so he can stay there for a bit, but Lance and Gwen keep him happy by consulting him about the music and giving him sheets to sing along from. Once he's situated they embark upon 'Joy to the World', one of Arthur's favourites. They sing it through three times, Arthur beaming in the middle of them, Joe leaning on his chair to look at the music and sing with him. Merlin sits on the step to watch.  

"He's high, isn't he?" Gwaine asks, coming to sit with Merlin.  

"Not singing?" Merlin asks.  

"Thrice is enough for me. I'm saving my voice for later." 

Percy starts them off on 'Good King Wenceslas and Joe sings along with them, bouncing around with Lucy.  

"He looks lovely in this light," Merlin says, "he's quite pale, but the fire light is orange and his cheeks are flushed, his eyes are so blue. I swear sometimes he looks like he's from another place entirely." 

"One of the sidhe," Gwaine agrees, grinning, "nasty, tricksy little people." 

"Sounds about right." 

They laugh, Gwaine leaning into Merlin, and Arthur looks up to smile at them, laughing too even though he couldn't possibly have heard, simply immitating Merlin and enjoying his mirth. They sing a few more songs, then Percy starts singing 'Brahm's Lullaby' and people stop to listen, Arthur singing softly along, voices weaving together. Gwaine gets up to join in as well and Merlin closes his eyes to listen to the soft tune.  

When he opens his eyes Arthur struggling to get up, face a little horrified. Merlin spots the tears as Arthur hobbles frantically over so he hoists Arthur up the steps by the elbow and Arthur sways at the top, steadying himself against Merlin's shoulder.  

"Stronger than you look, Emrys," Arthur says around a strangled half laugh.  

"Go in the livingroom. I'll bring the tree in, in a bit," Merlin says, "want company?" 

"No. Lucy! Come." 

Arthur leaves in haste, Lucy at his heels.  

"Did we do something?" Gwen asks, worried. 

"Nah," Merlin says, grinning, "he's just high and impulsive." 

They sing a few more slow songs, then Merlin asks Percy to help with the tree and everyone comes out to help, creating much chaos and laughter as they attempt to carrying one small tree between the seven of them, Joe running ahead to open doors, singing 'the Wassail Song'. Joe serenades them right through to the livingroon, bursting into Jingle Bells as Percy rights the tree and Lance stabalises it at the bottom.  

** 

Elena decides not to go carolling. She wants Joe to go, but he refuses, stating that he has to make the tree pretty for Santa Claus and he doesn't trust anyone else. Not even with Lucy supervising. He gets into his pyjamas and Elena curls up in the livingroom to watch him and Merlin. Arthur's drowsing in a big arm chair with a foot rest, occaisionally singing a groggy version of bits of carols.  

"Mum, did we bring the glass icikles we have at home?" Joe asks, resting a hand on her knee, looking up hopefully at her. 

"No, sorry baby, I didn't think to bring them." 

His face falls, but Merlin saves the day by producing some plastic ones similar enough, and a wooden hot air balloon, and a little metal Santa puppet. They work in silence, passing ornaments between them, Merlin dumping lights in Elena's lap to untangle.  

"In a small town, in the middle of the Netherlands," Arthur murmurs, head back, eyes closed, "it was winter. The season had started early this year, and the harvest had been bad, and the people already too poor were poorer still. There was no heating, just fires, and even those cost too much money to keep up so the poorest families had not even got that." 

Elena works her way along the electric wires, feeling out the knots, listening. Joe hangs a couple of wooden animals and then climbs up next to her, curling into her side.  

"There was one particular family, a man who had three daughters and a... a husband," Arthur says, flashing Merlin a smile, "He loved his family very much, every one of his daughters unique and special. Now, the first daughter was due to be married. She was of age and the man, Henrik, could no longer afford to keep her at home. This was a long time ago and the only way a woman could leave home was to be married. They were backwards." 

"But they had gay marriage," Merlin says, drily, but he's smiling and he says it softly enough that Arthur just ignores it.  

"There was a man, a shoemaker who lived on the same street as Henrik's family, who had long, long been in love with the first daughter. He called her Marie, though he name was Marianne, and they had been courting since they were teenagers. Marie loved him, and he loved Marie. It was custom, in those days, for a bride to bring a good deal of money from her father's family to her husband's, to help them get started out on their own. Henrik could not afford this. He could only just afford the cloth for Marie to make herself a few table cloths and bed clothes. Marie refused to get married until she could bring something with her. Fair was fair, she didn't want her husband and herself to start their life on the street." 

Arthur pauses, as if he can't remember what happened next.  

"This all happened in the Spring, and the situation was coming to a head by the Winter-time. Henrik was at his wit's end, he could not get together enough money for his daughter to be married, and he could no longer keep her at home, even with the sowing work she did. One night, he was awake long after everyone else, wrapped in a thin blanket, sitting in the dark. He put his head in his hands and wept, and his husband woke and they spoke in quiet voices about their troubles until well after mid-night. Eventually, they slept." 

Arthur pauses again. Elena unknots the last thread of lights and hands them to Merlin to hang over the tree. Merlin lights two short, fat candles on the mantle and pauses, on his way to her for the lights, to cup Arthur's face and press their foreheads together. Arthur smiles.  

"A week passed, and despair was hanging over the house. There was very little food, everyone was freezing, and there was no solution. Marie's intended groom was also running low on money and food, and his own parents could keep him at home no longer, either. There was no answer, and everyone was unhappy. Henrik slept that night between his husband and his daughters and wept as he slept." 

Arthur looks up as Merlin passes him again, trailing lights. Merlin ruffles his hair and Arthur grins.  

"In the morning," Arthur says, turning to Joe and grinning wider, "you'll never guess what was there, in the fireplace that had long been empty." 

"A dog! A puppy!" Joe says, excited.  

"That would be useful to keep everyone warm, and maybe that is what should have been there," Arthur says, brow furrowing.  

He seems to lose the thread and he calls Lucy over, her head in his lap, and gets distracted petting her, face loose and happy. Joes looks up at Elena and she smiles at him.  

"I think you need to remind Arthur what he was doing," she says softly.  

"Uncle Arthur," Joe says, impatient.  

Arthur's head snaps up and he gapes at Joe, then smiles a lop sided smile, full of affection and wonder.  

"Uncle Arthur?" Arthur says.  

"You were telling a story," Joe says.  

"Oh. Yes, so I was. No, it wasn't a puppy in the grate. It was a small package, tied up in brown paper. Henrik picked it up, wondering what it could be, and he and his husband opened it before their daughters woke, fearing the worst. Some kind of debt, some kind of threat. But inside was a leather purse full of gold coins, a large ham, a crown of paper flowers, and a note. All the note said was 'to get married, from a friend'. Well, you can imagine the rejoicing in the house that day. Marie and her beloved got married that same week, and they feasted on meat and bread, well fed for once, and the money was enough to start up a shop." 

"Good," Joe says, "they can make shoes, now, and Marie can sew... socks." 

"That's just exactly what they did," Arthur says, "and they got a puppy, too, like you thought before. A stray. They fed him scraps and a lot of love and they were all very happy. Now, Spring came around again, and back at Henrik's things did not go well. Henrik's husband took ill with the changing weather, the rains came down too hard and spoilt the harvest, and when winter came, they were poorer than ever. Not only that, but their second daughter was ready for marriage. With the bad harvest and Henrik's husband sick, they needed this wedding, but once again, there was no money for a dowry." 

"The money that goes with the bride," Elena explains to Joe when he repeats 'dowry'.  

"Yup," Arthur says, "Once again, they have a long cold winter with not enough food and no fire. Marie helped out as she could, but she had her own child on the way and a shop to run and a husband to care for, so you can imagine that she couldn't provide much. She added a few coins to her sister's small dowry. This sister was in love, too, with a beautiful, firey woman. This woman was a milk maid and needed the dowry to buy a small house where the second daughter, Eva, could take in washing and sewing and help support them." 

"But no money," Joe says, shrugging.  

"No money," Arthur agrees, "and Henrik was very sad, and very worried, and stayed up late thinking and trying to work something out. Eva did a lot of sewing, and the third daughter, Olive, also did sewing, but it still wasn't enough for much more than a bit of food and a few pennies in the dowry pot. One evening, Henrik stays awake all night worrying, and his husband gets up, still in ill health, and sits with him to talk through their problems. Eventually they sleep." 

Arthur looks around for Merlin, and Merlin takes the pause to flick on the tree lights, and turn off the over-head. The room glows warmly and Arthur and Joe both gasps, both staring at the tree. Merlin sits on the arm of Arthur's chair, on his good side, and wraps an arm around his shoulders, kissing the top of his head. 

"What next, Love?" Merlin asks.  

"Um, next... the coldest day of the year, Henrik puts his husband to bed, caring for him tenderly and wonderfully, knowing exactly how to make him comfortable, hands sure and gentle," Arthur looks up at Merlin and smiles at him, "um. And his daughters, he kisses them goodnight and lies down, too, all close together for warmth. He has no hope, having exhausted all possibilities, and as he sleeps, he weeps." 

Joe climbs into Elena's lap and she gives him a good cuddle, cradling him in her legs and her arms, holding him warm and close.  

"In the morning, though, when Henrik finally persuades himself to get up, he finds a parcel in the grate." 

"Not a puppy," Joe says.  

"Still not a puppy. But inside the parcel, when they open it, they find hope. Another purse of gold, another big ham, another note, and another wedding crown of paper flowers. And so Eva, like her sister, finds a happy marriage and buys a house and settles into running a sewing business and caring for her wife. But once again, Spring comes. With the change, Henrik's husband's health gets worse, the harvest fails entirely, and the third daughter comes to him to beg him to let her marry, dowry or no dowry." 

"They can't," Joe says, sadly, "not without money." 

"You're right," Arthur says, "the third daughter is in love with a very, very poor man. A farmer, like Henrik, who's had three years of bad harvests. His house is tumble down and the roof leaks, and neither the farmer nor Henrik want Olive to live in such squallor, and so she stays home with her parents. As winter comes, it promises to be the coldest yet, and Henrik can afford no fire, and all their money goes to caring for Henrik's husband, who cannot get out of bed anymore, and seems to be wasting away. Henrik is very, very sad, and he cannot see a way out." 

"On the coldest night of the year," Joe prompts, when Arthur spaces out again.  

"On the coldest night, as you say, despair over comes him. His husband is slowly dying, his daughter is unhappy, and his two married daughters have nothing to spare after a hard year. They try, and they come to help care for their sick father, but they can only do so much. So, on the coldest night, Henrik curls up with his husband and daughter and shivers off to sleep. And as he sleeps, he weeps." 

"Poor Henrik," Merlin says.  

"Mm," Arthur agrees, "but, in the morning, a third parcel is waiting, and inside..." 

"Is a puppy!" Joe says, laughing at his own joke.  

"Is a third purse of money, a third ham, a third wedding crown. And Olive can follow her sisters and live with the poor farmer, fix the roof, invest in new animals and tools, and try to turn the farm around. Luckily, when Spring comes it brings good weather, and finally the year, when it turns, brings a bountiful harvest. Henrik sells much of his crop, and his calves, and feed his husband up until he's healthy and can sit out in the sunshine and become healthier still. When winter comes, they have a fire, their children are safe and warm, and they do not despair. Though, they are still poor and still struggle." 

"The end?" Joe asks.  

"Not quite. As winter sets in, Henrik talks to his neighbours and mentions the kind stranger, and there's amazement as other's share similar stories. The people of the town have all been in reciept of help the past three winters, when things have been so difficult. They decide to thank the stranger, and to catch him in the act. So they all bake good food, the best they can mange, and put it out on the window sills, and wait up all night on the coldest night." 

Arthur pauses to kiss Merlin's knuckles, grinning. 

"Only Henrik and his husband manage to stay awake, and so they are the only ones who spy the local lord walking the streets, stooping and taking the food, and at each house pausing to drop a small purse of coins down the chimney. They know this lord, it is the younger son of the man who owns a lot of land. His name is Nicholas. In the morning, they spread the story of a saint, but do not name the lord. And every year, the towns folk put out good food and the young lord gives out coins. As the years go by, the story is passed down. Henrik tells his grandchildren of Saint Nicholas. And when the young lord dies, the tradition of giving carries on. It spreads across the Netherlands, a day where generosity of spirit is celebrated, and children everywhere leave out food for St Nicholas and hope for presents in return." 

Joe sighs in contentment and curls up tighter, holding on to Elena. She strokes his hair and rocks him a little, humming to him, hoping he'll drift off. He does, almost immediately, and she looks up to thank Arthur. Merlin smiles at her and shakes his head, pointing at where Arthur's conked out, too, head back, mouth open.  

"They're both asleep," Merlin says. 

"I thought it'd be you making up stories, mr Writer." 

"So did I. He's never done that before." 

Elena lifts Joe and kisses Merlin's cheek, retreating upstairs. She stays with her son, lighting the fire in the wood stove. She's sure that it was Arthur who thought to put her in the room with the safest fire. She sits with Joe until she hears a hustle down stairs, and singing. Then she slips out, shutting the door behind her, and goes to join the carollers.  

Gwaine's merry, not quite drunk, Elyan's drunk, Percy's sober and serious, singing his heart out. Gwen and Lance are cooing and pleased with one another, singing to each other. Elena joins them for a few songs, and Merlin comes out and joins in too before finding booze and mincepies for everyone. The carollers slowly trickle away until it's just them, and Leon Mellor, left.  

"It's good to meet you," Elena tells Leon, "We've heard about you from both Arthur and Merlin." 

"It's not true," Leon blurts, then his face heats, "sorry. I'm a bit drunk. I don't remember you're name, I'm so sorry!" 

"Elena. I'm the one with the kid." 

"Yes. Joey. Arthur told me something about him trying to steal Lucy?" 

Elena laughs and fills Leon's glass for him, giving him another mince pie. Somewhere along the way Leon and Gwaine get into a drinking contest, and in the end Elena and Percy, the only sober people left, have to walk Leon home at two in the morning because 'Lil will KILL me if I'm not there for stockings and porridge! And the sheep, the cows!'.  

** 

Arthur wakes late. He knows it's late because Lucy's not in bed with him, and niether is Merlin. He's warm, too. Really warm. He's can't work out why. All his muscles are relaxed. He feels a bit sick, but he also feels rested and _warm._ He tries making some croaking noises, but Merlin doesn't appear so he tries being a bit louder. Still nothing. In the end he has to heave himself up and prop himself on his crutches.  

He makes his way into the kitchen, joints aching with the loss of the warm bed, head fuzzing and stomach rebelling. He makes it to the kitchen, empty, and then loses it, hurrying to the sink to throw up.  

"Oh god, stop, or I'll follow you." 

Arthur gulps, spits some bile and runs the tap, turning to find Gwaine watching him, face pale.  

"Morning," Arthur mutters, wiping his mouth, "sorry. Meds hangover." 

"Alcohol hangover," Gwaine says, grinning, rubbing his stomach. 

"Where is everyone?" ARthur asks, rubbing his own stomach.  

He should eat, that'll help. He hobbles to the bread bin and chooses sliced bread, popping two pieces into the toaster, offering it to Gwaine with a gesture.  

"God no, I'm not eating anything for a while. Water, coffee, and napping." 

Arthur shrugs and doesn't offer to get Gwaine any of those things. Gwaine gets himself a pint glass of water and sits at the table, resting his head in his hands. Arthur watches his toast.  

"Do you know where Merlin is?" he asks.  

"No. Dunno where anyone is. They thoughtfully left me alone." 

Arthur butters his toast and joins Gwaine at the table, eating slowly.  

"You'll have to wait for coffee," Arthur says, "the smell upsets my stomach." 

Gwaine groans loudly and thunks his head back down onto the table. Arthur munches on through his toast, willing his stomach not to rebel. Gwaine bolts for the bathroom twice in the time it takes Arthur to eat, going for the upstairs one once, the second time changing his mind on the steps out of the kitchen and running for the outside loo instead. Arthur blocks out he sounds of his retching.  

It's Merlin who comes back through the door,  not Gwaine, Lucy barging in behind him and wagging her tail. Merlin grabs the dog and rubs her dry, getting the worst of the mud, before coming in.  

"Is that Gwaine out there?" Merlin asks, grinning.  

"Mm. I think I set him off." 

"You puke this morning?" 

"Mm." 

Joe comes running in, Elena close on his heels, wearing a crown of holly. 

"Uncle Arthur! You missed stockings and presents and pancakes for breakfast, and the clearing up game! We save your presents, though. And we didn't get to do Christmas Eve Home Made, so we're gonna do it tomorrow morning, so more presents!" Joe says, coming running over in his socks, skidding to a halt and hitting Arthur's chair.  

It jolts and sends a sharp pain through his body, and Arthur has to bite his tongue to stop himself from lashing out. Elena comes and scoops up her son and rescues him, apologising profusely. The damage is done, though, and Arthur has to struggle up and use the sink again.  

"How come you're allowed to vom in here?" Gwaine complains, staggering back inside.  

"Try kneeling with my leg," Arthur mutters before retching again.  

"God, you two are awful," Merlin says, but he rubs Arthur's back and cleans the sink, "go back to bed. You want to feel better for lunch. We went for a walk, the stragglers got a little left behind, I think everyone's hungover today. We'll get stuck in cooking when they arrive, Elizabeth helped me prep most of it so it shouldn't take long." 

"Why's the bed so warm?" Arthur says, already making his way back, "Gwaine, you come with me. Make sure I don't aspirate vomit." 

"Gross," Gwaine complains, but he does come along, bringing bowls and water.  

"Electric blankets, times two," Merlin says, steadying Arthur at the top of the steps, "Leon borrowed them from Gili, who has them from when his Dad was sick, and Leon brought them here last night." 

"Gili's Dad didn't die in them, did he?" Arthur asks, worried.  

"No, you twat, he didn't die at all. He lives in London," Merlin says.  

Arthur can tell he's amused, though, so he grins. It takes him a bit to get comfortable in the bed and when he does, Merlin leaves. Gwaine curls up on top of the covers with one of the bowls, handing the other to Arthur, though.  

"You can get in if you like," Arthur says.  

"Too hot," Gwaine says.  

He does get under the covers, though, complaining about cold feet and nausea and a headache. Arthur can sympathise. They complain back and forth for a bit.  

"Merlin says you told them a story, last night," Gwaine says, quiet, cheeks pinking with embarrassement.  

"You want a bed time story?" Arthur mocks, laughing, and Gwaine goes redder, knee nudging at Arthur in irritation, "Gently! Careful. Don't!" 

"Come on, I barely touched you. Please? I'll... um..." 

"I'll think of something suitable," Arthur says, when Gwaine comes up blank, "don't you worry." 

Gwaine looks worried, but then he laughs and agrees, pushing his hair off his face. Arthur watches, wondering if his hair's as soft and smooth as it looks. He tells Gwaine the same story, as well as he can remember it, and tells Gwine about the lights on the tree in the middle and Joe's obsession with the puppy, and Lucy joins them just as he's explaining the puppy thing and it makes Gwaine laugh and Arthur wonders about his hair again.  

Arthur tries to get up for lunch, but he's so tired and sluggish that he only manages ten minutes at the table before he needs to lie down again. He retreats, irritation and regret making him bad tempered. His temper sends Merlin storming back to his friends and Arthur sulks, pain making him self-pitying.  

"You could've been nicer to Merlin," Gwaine says, appearing in the doorway.  

"Shove off," Arthur moans. 

"You in pain?" 

"Obviously!" 

"You said some pretty shit stuff there, princess, don't act like the injured party. However, I am nice enough to be playing the impartial person here, seeing as the house is rather stuffed with allies for Merlin. Thought it was only fair." 

"Then get the fuck over here and help me get comfortable. Please." 

Gwaine does, laughing at Arthur flopping about but being gentle and careful and asking what to do and generally being helpful and nice. Arthur grumps at him, but he's gentler than he was with Merlin and Gwaine stays. Merlin brings them food and pushes the hair off Arthur's forehead and kisses his cheeks and gives him a hug, and he hugs Gwaine, too, and kisses _his_ cheek, and ruffles his hair. Arthur, following the movement of Merlin's hand, reaches out to see about the smooth softness.  

"Better than it looks," he decides, untangling his fingers.  

Merlin and Gwaine both look puzzled, Gwaine laughs, Merlin kisses Arthur again, on the lips this time. Arthur hums, but pulls away because he wants to try all the food. All of it. Gwaine laughs at him more and Merlin goes to play host, but not angrily storming this time. And he comes back to pull crackers and after lunch he brings Joe and cake and cracker jokes and prizes, and presents.  

Joe helps Arthur open his, because Arthur's tired and mostly dozing by that point, Gwaine snoring on Merlin's side of the bed, Merlin reading a new book from the Gwencalots in the chair. Joe gets excited about Arthur's presents for him and Arthur enjoys it much more with his enthusiasm. All in all it's a pretty good Christmas day, even though he's tired and sloppy and a bit sick from the meds. and he's warm.  

"I'm so warm. I need to be warm more. Heating, Merlin," Arthur mutters, half asleep, later.  

"Mmm. True. did you like your presents?" 

Arthur thinks hard, trying to remember what Merlin gave him, but he can't for the life of him think of anything and he falls asleep trying.  

*** 

"Merlin!"  

Merlin pauses by the stile, waiting for Gwaine to catch them. He watches Lucy bounding away across the fields, busy exploring the frosty world. Gwaine scrambles through the hedge and jumps down next to Merlin, linking their arms.  

"So weird, not being hungover on the twenty sixth," Gwaine says.  

"Yeah, it's so weird you not being hungover." 

"Turns out I can't drink quite as much as I used to." 

"Mmhmm. Did you have a good Christmas?" 

"I really did. You?" 

"Yeah. I missed you all last year, and the one before. It's so nice to have a full house again. With Mum not being able to come down, I was... it was looking to be a hard one." 

"None of us have much, by way of family. Just each other, really," Gwaine says. "No one minded a bit. We were all glad to be asked. Me especially." 

"Do you like Arthur?" Merlin asks, turning them to loop around the bottom of the small hill, so they can head up the bigger one, away from the village. 

"Yes. Very much," Gwaine says, unlinking their arms and pacing ahead a little.  

Merlin leaves him to walk in silence for a while, digesting that. He's always been aware that Arthur identifies himself as poly, and that Gwaine does, too. He never thought that either of those things would pertain to them together, though. Just becausese Gwaine has made a throw away comment doesn't mean much, but Merlin's been watching the way Arthur is around Gwaine, and he's pretty sure if Gwaine likes him, it isn't one sided. Merlin doesn't know what to feel about that.  

So, he whistles for Luce, and walks, keeping the quiet between them, waiting for Gwaine to fall into step with him again. They walk together, sharing things in the silences the way they used to, adjusting to the new elephant-in-the-room between them. It's not too hard. There's something enduring between them, that nothing will change. Merlin is easy in Gwaine's company, by the time they ereach the house again, and Gwaine seems comfortable, too.  

In the kitchen, Percival and Elyan are already getting ready to leave, both of them due back at work on the twenty eighth and needing to get home. Gwen and Lancelot are staying until the evening, but then they're leaving, too. They're gathering their things from around the house and packing. Elena is staying another day, and she's sat by the gas fire, drinking tea and reading a book.  

"Where's Joey?" Merlin asks, rubbing Luce down before letting her in the kitchen. 

"Arthur took him into the garden, to look at things and see if they could find brussel sprouts. Arthur told him that there are some growing out there." 

"Yeah, we ate them yesterday," Merlin says. 

He heads to the bathroom off their downstairs room, to wash up and get a shower while the house is quiet. He gets out in time to see Elyan and Percy off, and then he takes a nap with Arthur, tired and sad. Arthur hugs him and puts the electric blankets on and is very indulgent of what is effectively just him sulking.  

He spends the afternoon sitting quietly with Lance and Gwen, none of them saying much, trying to get as much of each other's company as possible. He cries when it's time for them to leave. Gwaine drives them to the train station, leaving Merlin free to curl up in bed and get cuddles from Arthur. Joe comes in, with Lucy, and Merlin gets cuddles from them, too.  

"I just miss them all so much," Merlin says, stuffy and tired, when Elena comes to take Joe up to bed.  

"I know," Arthur says. "I was, I was, I mean if yo think? I was thinking of asking Gwaine to stay a bit. If you ike." 

"I like. Are you and he... do you?" 

"Dunno. I like him. A lot. He's very lovely. But no, that's not why I want him to stay, and I hadn't even really considered it beyond, you know, thinking he's quite hot. Not without talking to you about it. Not without you being a hundred percent okay with it." 

"Oh. Okay. I'm not." 

"I know." 

Merlin sighs, and falls asleep. 

He and Gwaine walk a lot, over the next few days. They take Lucy out twice a day, and spend hours tramping through the wet countryside. They take her to the river, and up Sugarloaf, and do Skyrid again. They take her up Garway hill and Merlin shows Gwaine as much of his new home as he can. Gwaine also spends a lot of time lazing about the house with Arthur, while Merlin writes. Merlin doesn't mind that, after talking to Arthur he feels better.  

Arthur has a few good days, and they take Gwaine to the pub, introducing him to their other neighbours. Gwaine gets drunk with Leon twice, and that seems to make them firm friends. Gwaine walks over to the Mellor's a couple of times, and Arthur often trails up after him, which means Merlin has to go collect them in the car, because Arthur can only walk that far one way. 

They fall into a pattern, and Merlin gets used to having Gwaine around the house. After two weeks, Gwaine makes some noises about going back to London, but Arthur persuades him to stay. After three, when he makes noises again, it's Merlin persuading him to stay. After four, both of them just glare at him and Gwaine rolls his eyes and goes to offer himself to Leon for busy work. He comes home muddy and tired and joyful about being allowed to 'be a proper farmer'. It makes Arthur jealous.  

It's Merlin, in the end, who breaks the pattern. They're at the pub on a Friday, almost at the end of January, and Merlin's a little tipsy. Arthur's very tipsy. Gwaine's sober, their designated driver. Leon is drunk enough to be trying to persuade Mithian, the bar-tender, to let him have a go at kareoke. There is no kareoke. Merlin's watching Gwaine, idly, sipping his cider. He leans over and rests his head on Gwaine's shoulder.  

 

"Hello," Gwaine says. "Ready for home?" 

 

"Nope," Merlin says, turning his head.  

 

And Gwaine's lips are just there. So Merlin kisses him.  

 

** 

 

Arthur gets half-way home before he realises just how cold it is, how much he's hurting, and how much his hurting is not just Merlin kissing Gwaine but his leg, his hip. He manages two more faltering steps, then his leg gives in and dumps him on the verge. He sits down and cries, gulping sobs that hurt. He puts his head down against his good knee, holds his bad leg, and just sits there until the crying stops .  

 

"Hey. You probably don't want me right now, but Leon is drunk and Merlin's drunk. I took them both to the Mellors. If I take you home, you can be on your own. Or I can get Merlin for you." 

 

Arthur hears Gwaine, and knows he's standing there, uncertain, but he hurts. So he ignores it. Trying to process it is too hard. Gwaine sighs, and hauls him to his feet. Pain spikes through him and Arthur whimpers, leaning into the warm body.  

 

"I've got you," Gwaine says.  

 

Arthur sighs out a quiet sob, and lets Gwaine get him home. Curled up in his own bed, electric blankets thawing the pain out of him, a mild painkiller easing the rest, he feels a bit better. Gwaine brings him water and a slice of toast with honey, and sits with him until he's settled once more.  

 

"Do you want me to get Merlin?" Gwaine asks. Arthur shakes his head. "Okay. I can leave, if you want." 

 

"to go stay at the Mellors?" Arthur asks.  

 

"No, of course not." 

 

"You could, if you want. I don't mind you staying here. Why did he kiss you?" 

 

"I honestly don't have a clue." 

 

"Maybe I should kiss you, as well. Make it even." 

 

"Probably not the best idea. Maybe just get some rest, and talk to Merlin in the morning?" 

"that sounds far too sensible. Where's Lucy?" 

Gwaine whistles and the dog comes bounding in, tail wagging. IT stops wagging when she sees Arthur, and she jumps up to curl with him, warm and familiar. Arthur wraps his arms around her.  

 

"Had her since she was a tiny pup. Seven years. My best friend," ARthur whispers. "Such a good dog. So loyal." 

 

"that's lovely, darling. Now go to sleep," Gwaine soothes.  

 

Arthur sighs, and does as he's told.  

 

He wakes toasty-warm, wrapped Iin blankets. Lucy's there, but it's quite late in the day, Atrthur can tell from the light, and she's still happy to be still and quiet, so he's pretty sure she's had a walk. He can hear people in the kitchen, so he gets up and gathers his crutches, not wanting to risk putting weight on his leg this morning. He shuffles through, and finds Merlin, Leon, Elizabeth and Gwaine, all sat around the kitchen table.  

 

"Morning, 'lizbeth," Arthur mumbles, getting down the steps to give her a hug. 

 

"What about the rest of us?" Leon asks, gettingng up to demand his own hug. He's so clingy hungover. "Alright?" 

 

"Yeah," Arthur says, yawning again, hobbling over towards the kettle.  

 

Leon and Elizaebeth both protest and send him to sit down, then bicker over who gets to make him coffee and breakfast. Arthru puts in a good word for Elizabeth, who is more likely to make him that French toast Joseph showed him about, then leaves them to it. Leon sets a coffee Iin front of him a moment later, and a satsuma. Arthur eats and drinks.  

Merlin keeps sending him woeful looks. Arthur ignores it until he's got his French toast, then he sends Gwaine and the Mellors off, and eats his breakfast with just Merlin and Lucy there. Merlin scritches Lucy's ears, and waits for ARthur to say something.  

 

"I'm sorry!" Merlin blurts, eventually, breaking. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kissed him." 

 

"Why did you?" Arthur asks.  

 

"I like him. I didn't know, I really didn't, but last night, and these last few weeks. He's so different. And you liked him, which made me look at him different, and he's so.. .he's peaceful. I didn't mean to do it, and I really am sorry that I did, and I regret not talking to you first, but I don't regret liking him. I can't." 

 

"This isn't how 'poly' works," Arthur says . 

 

"I know that," Merlin says, irritation showing through. "I told you, I hadn't realised. If I had known, I would have sat down with you. I didn't know, so I didn't." 

 

"Yeah. Alright." 

 

"Alright?" 

 

"Yes. You're not.. You're not leaving me? You're not poly, Merls." 

 

"Of course I'm not leaving you, I love you," Melrin says. "Of course I'm not.  am very sorry for making you feel that. So very sorry, my love. No, I'm not leaving. I never identified as poly, but that doesn't mean Im not open to the idea. It's just not something I've ever actively pursued or wanted." 

 

"I like him, too." 

 

"I know." 

 

"We should ask him, when he gets back." 

 

Merlin's face splits into a silly, wide, sunshine-y smile, and Arthur gives him a small smile in return. Merlin spends the day spoiling him, cuddling with him, and spending time assuring him he's loved and that Merlin's not going anywhere. By the time Gwaine gets home, Arthur's blissed out on painkillers, warmth, and good feeling. He's sleepy and pliant. He half hears Merlin having a serious conversation with Gwaine, but then he's asleep.  

 

*** 

Elena opens the door to Gwaine, and invites him in, pleased but confused. She hasn't seen or heard from him since Christmas, and it's now February.  

 

"I'm in a relationship," he tells her, over coffee, looking entirely bemused by the fact. "With two asexual people. Called Arthur and Merlin." 

 

 


End file.
